


Run Boy, Run, Disappear Into The Trees

by clickclickclickclick



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers are pretty dead here, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Blood, EDITH Glasses (Marvel), Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Escape, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fear, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Gaslighting, Gore, Hostage Situations, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Mid Spider-Man: Far From Home, Mid-Canon, Mpreg, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Doubt, Self-Mutilation, Slow Burn, Teen Pregnancy, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickclickclickclick/pseuds/clickclickclickclick
Summary: With Nick Fury dead, Quentin Beck's plans go flawlessly, with only one drastic change. Spider-Man 'disappears', he is merely another tragic death in the attack on London. Another name on the death toll of an Elemental tearing apart a good chunk of London.In his stead appearsPeter Payton Beck, another refugee from Quentin Beck's home dimension. One who just happens to be Beck's spouse. While Quentin builds his European team of heroes, Peter remains firmly under the man's thumb. With his loved ones lives on the line, Peter has to comply to Quentin's plan.He plans his own escape, whilst Quentin's heroic team start to notice the cracks in his story.The real question is wether Peter will escape or even survive any of this? Will anyone else notice something is wrong?Peter isn't sure if he'll get any help, but he intends to get out.
Relationships: Brian Baddock/Meggan Puceanu, Harley Keener/Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 132
Kudos: 233





	1. This world is not made for you

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to what the fuck ever this is. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upgAIOsipLA have the song that inspired this madness. 
> 
> Forgive me fans of Brian Braddock and Meggan, I'm kind of winging it wildly here for them. I'm blending MCU with comics while ignoring a lot of rules. More characters will be added to the tags as they have active parts. I want to keep certain things surprises as the chapters appear :)

He leans heavily against the wall, hands tightening into fists as he listens to the muffled sounds of what he realizes is a _party_. Music, laughter, the clink of utensils and the clattering of glasses moving across tables. Peter closes his eyes, and he can almost, just almost picture the parties his parents would have in Oscorp Tower. The few times he was dragged along to it. The memory is distant, fuzzy with time, but he remembers still. The mental image doesn’t last long, doesn’t linger enough to leave the seventeen year old all that comforted. It’s a wisp of something that leaves him warm for a second before he realizes just how cold he really is.

__He shivers, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He slides down the wall, just sinking onto the ground. All he can do is listen. This isn’t the first time Quentin has had company over, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It never gets easier._ _

__Peter has met a few of Quentin’s guests in passing, just as ‘the husband’ and not much else. He’s just Peter Payton Beck. His guests were always the same, other heroes drawn in by Beck’s lie. Peter has made minimal small talk with Captain Britain, Meggan, Micromax, and Longshot, all the interactions had been decidedly brief, mostly because he’s not a ‘hero’ so he doesn’t need to ‘worry himself sick’ about any of it. Quentin always ensured there wasn’t much interaction, and Peter knew better than to push._ _

__With Fury’s sudden disappearance, there was no one else to really vet Quentin’s story for changes. It changed enough to cover where Peter had come from. He was Quentin’s ill husband from their dimension, the only other survivor, he needed to rest to adjust to this world. It’s all childish and idiotic in a way Peter can’t articulate. He wants to scream ‘how can you even believe this?’ at the heroes Quentin has fooled, but knows he can’t. They’re fooled enough they’re in league with the man. Peter has heard Quentin gloat about having his own Avengers now. All Peter wants to do is scream when he thinks about it._ _

__He buries his face in his knees, hands clutching at the fabric of his sweatpants. He would cry, but he feels like he’s run out of tears at this point. He’s cried for himself, for his family, for Ned, MJ and Harley, for a lot of things over the past year._ _

__The urge to scream and make noises to be noticed rises but is easily quashed after a moment of consideration. Peter knows it won’t do him any favors. No one but Quentin can get back here. He built the house specifically to keep things this way. The house looks normal from the outside, hell even from the front facing rooms, it looks like the indulgences of a rich man who liked to entertain. A large kitchen with modern sleek appliances, the expansive main living room, guest bathroom, and dining room, were all the main rooms that lay in the front of the house. Rooms that could be seen through the glass walls and windows. The few times Peter had been out of the back, he could look out at the countryside and see nothing for miles._ _

__After a certain turn into a hallway, a locked door would be found. The rest of the house required a code or key to get into the more heavily concrete laden walls. Walls were made thick enough Peter couldn’t punch his way through, if he ever somehow was rid of the inhibitor chip planted under his skin. He knew where it was, but prying it out of the back of his neck wasn’t something he could do as subtly as he wanted. His attempts in the past had gone poorly enough he wasn’t trying anymore._ _

__The rooms Peter had varying levels of access to were a smaller kitchen, his own bedroom, a bathroom, the entertainment room, Quentin’s office, and Quentin’s personal bedroom. Peter was glad enough he was locked specifically out of Quentin’s spaces. The less he saw of them, the better. None of them had positive associations at this point. He already knew Quentin would come back drunk from the party and want attention. The less he thought about that now, the better._ _

__It takes Peter a moment to regain his footing as he stands back up, drifting to curl up on the couch. He burrows under a blanket left there, just trying to ignore the sounds of the party. He lets himself relax, just pressing his face against one of the throw pillows. He dozes at some point, losing track of time completely. Just this once he’s warm, comfortable and dreams of home._ _

__He only wakes up to cold fingertips moving across his cheek. He blinks blearily, turning to peer up at the man touching him. Quentin’s breath smells of expensive whiskey when the man leans in, Peter just winces at the scent._ _

__“Were you waiting for me, doll face?” The man slurs as he cups Peter’s chin in his fingers. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me.”_ _

__Peter just tolerates the touch, wishing he could disappear. “How was the party-?” He questions as a deflection. It is the right question as Quentin rambles, recounting every funny or mildly interesting aspect of the party. Peter barely even registers half of what the drunken man is saying, it’s all just noise at this point. Being ‘married’ to Quentin Beck means Peter has learned how to tune the man out to some extent. Quentin starts to unbutton his shirt as he speaks, green eyes roving over the teenager curled under the blanket. Peter just wants to burrow deeper to hide, but knows that won’t do much._ _

__“You wanna earn something big, Peter?” He questions as he shucks his shirt aside, moving to undo the buckle of the belt holding up his jeans. Quentin’s pleased grin just grates Peter immediately. He starts to unzip the fly as he adds. “Real big?”_ _

__Peter restrains the urge to throw a barb back at the man that he shouldn’t be that confident given what he’s seen of Quentin, he isn’t exactly impressed. “...What exactly is it?” He questions warily._ _

__“A chance to go outside. Been a long while, huh?”_ _

__The thought of going outside knocks the air out of Peter for a moment, his eyes widening as he stares up at the man. “Like, beyond the porch?”_ _

__“Walking round the forest in the back yard with me. I can tell you’re feeling a little antsy.” He reaches out to coax a hand across Peter’s cheek, brushing his thumb across the teenager’s bottom lip for a moment. He cups Peter's cheek in his hand, just smiling down at the teenager._ _

__Peter chews at his bottom lip nervously, hating himself for the immediate agreement already on his lips. The idea of actually going outside is tantalizing enough Peter finds it hard to say no to. He knows he should fight against Quentin, should make everything harder for the man-_ _

__But he wants to go outside so badly. He clicks his teeth together before finding himself nodding slowly, shedding the blanket covering him as he lays back on the couch. He adjusts his position to at least rest his head comfortably against the couches arm rest. “Yes.”_ _

__The smirk that curls across Quentin’s lips immediately makes Peter regret saying yes, but he bites back his frustration. He’s had to earn things before, this isn’t the first time he’s had to just get through it. He earned all the movies he can watch, he’s earned a new blanket, new clothing- he can do this._ _

__Fingers twist into the curls of his hair as the man’s weight settles over him._ _

__Peter just lets his frustration fall away and he’s somewhere else entirely. He’s anywhere but here in this moment. He only comes back to himself when he’s standing in the shower, a sore kind of exhaustion leaking into his bones._ _

__\--_ _

__A laugh ripples through him as he walks through the fallen leaves. The crunch of them under his boots just feels perfect in a way that leaves Peter breathless. He runs a hand along the tree trunk, wishing desperately he could climb it. He stares upwards at the sky, smiling widely at the surrounding forest._ _

__“You earned it, doll face. So enjoy it.” Quentin chuckles lowly back, he’s holding a mug of coffee in one hand, his other hand tucked into his jean pockets. Peter knows it’s holding onto the remote that controls the shocks Peter gets when he ‘misbehaves’. He’s not unaware of how Quentin controls him at this point. He’s working on a way around all of it. He is just biding his time. He knows where the shock nodes are, all it will take its removing them._ _

__Peter knows he can get out of here, he just needs the right time._ _

__Peter doesn’t stray from the designated area he’s been given, he does manage to climb into a tree the old fashioned way and sit on some branches for a while. Quentin thankfully isn’t trying to make small talk. The man sips at his coffee, but keeps an eye on Peter. Peter just enjoys climbing trees, running through leaves and eventually just sitting in the damp dying grass. The hour is up before Peter feels like he can really enjoy it._ _

__Quentin snaps his fingers expectantly, “Time to go in, Peter.”_ _

__Peter hunches into himself wishing he could just bury himself into the leaves and never move again. “Coming.” He calls back reluctantly, rising from where he’s seated to walk back towards Quentin. He is relieved when Quentin doesn’t forcibly link their arms, he’s more invested in his coffee, walking casually back up the steps of the back porch leading into the house. Peter follows obediently enough. Quentin comes to a stop at the backdoor, and Peter finds himself lingering on the edge of the porch itself staring out at the landscape. The early morning fog is still thick in the air, and the chill leaves goosebumps traveling across his arms._ _

__“Don’t dawdle, doll face.” The man drawls as he opens the back door. Peter exhales slowly as he turns to follow Quentin back inside. Peter winces a little as the back door closes and locks behind them._ _

__He’s biding his time until he can really run. He needs to plan, he needs to find a crack in Quentin’s carefully laid trap. He can’t run out into the countryside and hope for the best, no matter how grandly tempting it all is._ _

__Peter rubs his arms as he watches the man drift away in the direction of the kitchen. “Change into something presentable, Peter. We’re going to have company for breakfast.”_ _

__Peter blinks a little, “Really-?”_ _

__“Captain Britain wants to make a house call.” Peter can hear the pure irritation dripping from Quentin’s tone even from here. “Thank god the rest of those idiots aren’t coming. I don’t think I could handle them all on a hangover.”_ _

__Peter can hear Quentin moving around the kitchen, roughly moving things around. “Doesn’t that idiot know after a party you make yourself scarce?” There is a pause as Quentin pokes his head out of the kitchen’s doorway, annoyance clear on his face. “Go already, Peter. Wear something I can help you out of _at least_.” _ _

__Peter makes a face at that, disgust pooling in his gut. “I thought you said presentable.” He answers back before making his way towards his own bedroom to avoid hearing what the man has to say. He locks the door behind himself before he starts stripping out of the ratty jeans, sneakers and long sleeved shirt. He switches to a chunky sweater, jeans and loafers, already having a rough idea of what Quentin wanted. He steps out of the bedroom, waiting by the door for Quentin to walk by. He already knows he can’t just get comfortable when they have somewhere to be._ _

__Quentin’s reaction upon seeing him is enough to confirm Peter had guessed right. The man’s fingertips on the back of his neck make Peter openly wince. The wince earns a scowl from the man. His fingers twist in the fine curls at the nape of Peter’s neck. “Remember, doll face. Happy family, or something terrible will happen to your little friends and family.”_ _

__The threat makes Peter’s gut twist into a knot, his gaze drops as he nods wordlessly._ _

__“Glad we still have that understanding, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss against Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll start on breakfast, make yourself comfortable in the kitchen. Happy in love couple, Pete, don’t forget.”_ _

__He follows Quentin out of the back area, finding a seat at the table as the man falls into cooking. Peter just stares at his hands until a coffee mug is shoved into them. He slowly sips at the coffee for something to do. He remains seated as Quentin’s guest arrives. Quentin switches from irritable and seething to the charming man from another dimension. The captain is welcomed warmly with a pat to the shoulder and guiding hand to the table. Peter manages a smile somehow. It’s convincing enough Quentin seems _too_ pleased. _ _

__Captain Britain, Brian Braddock is a shockingly sweet man. Genial, funny and warm in a way that Peter at least finds nice to hold a conversation with. Peter finds himself laughing genuinely once or twice, which is almost a release he hadn’t realized he needed. Quentin lays out a simple meal of eggs, sausage and hash browns, along with coffee for himself and Brian. Peter has to resist his urge to inhale the food, working on it slowly to avoid being glowered at_ _

__“How have you been adjusting to this dimension, Peter-?”_ _

__The teenager blinks, fork half way to his mouth. Brian’s question catches Peter off guard. He sets it back down on the plate. “Oh, I’m- adjusting slowly. Everything just, feels different.” He’s not entirely sure what else to say. Usually Guterman has something terrible but believable to supply Beck or Peter directly. Today is very much improvisation. “I’ve been feeling sick since we arrived here, I’m hoping it’ll pass soon enough.”_ _

__“It must be tiring to be on bed rest as often as you are?” Brian offers with a quirk of a blonde brow._ _

__Peter finds himself staring down at his coffee, frowning a little at the liquid. “It is. I- don’t really enjoy bed rest.”_ _

__“You know you can’t over do it, doll.” Quentin places a hand against the small of his back. “I know you’re tired of this. I am too.”_ _

__Peter nods slowly, “I know.” He sighs before looking back up at Brian, “Thank you for asking though.”_ _

__The meal progresses casually from there, with Peter letting Quentin fill the conversation primarily. The asshole has the tendency to do that without even trying, so all Peter has to do is make agreeable noises with whatever is being said. Brian Braddock strangely makes a point to ask Peter questions, which irritates Quentin vaguely. Peter can see as much in the way his grip tightens on the mug in his hands._ _

__Peter knows he’s lying directly to the man’s face, but he isn’t sure what else to do. He’s given his out when Quentin’s hand trails along his back. “You’re looking a little low, doll, why not get some rest?”_ _

__Peter nods a little numbly, “I should get some rest.” He agrees, surprised by Brian’s seeming disappointment that he’s leaving. Quentin rises from the table to ‘help’ Peter, he offers Brian an easy smile. “I’ll be right back, Cap. Don’t rush to wolf your eggs down, we still have a lot to talk about!”_ _

__Peter walks wordlessly with Quentin to the back, he walks through the door and listens as it closes behind him with a firm click. He moves to sink onto one of the arm chairs near the couch, toeing his loafers off so he can curl up into himself. Given what happened on the couch last night, he’s not particularly inclined to settle on it yet. He can make out the two men’s conversation to some extent but isn’t focused on it. When Quentin comes to the back area, he’s stuck on complaining about Brain for a good hour. Peter just is relieved when Quentin gets bored of that and locks himself in his office._ _

__Any reprieve from Quentin Beck is a good one._ _


	2. They're trying to catch you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, more of this is happening. 
> 
> FYI tho: Peter and Beck aren't going to fall in love. Its all just pure hate between those two. nor will i explain how the mpreg works.
> 
> Edited out a few sentences that got in here by mistake. Mah bad.

“I- I’m leaving the house-?” Peter questions, clearly a little confused and stunned in equal measure. He clutches the throw pillow against his chest as he stares at the man across from him. Quentin gives a frustrated sound, pinching the bridge of his nose as he reclines back into his chair. He tips his head back, just staring at the ceiling with displeasure written on his features. 

“ _Brunch_ , those idiots want to do, brunch. They want both of us. So, yes, you’re coming.” 

“Brunch sounds, nice.” Peter states a little awkwardly, the thought of actually leaving the house seems almost impossible. He had been trapped in here for so long, everything else has started to feel distant. He dreams of New York, he dreams of his school in choppy parts. “Are we doing that this week?” 

“Tuesday. God what a pain in the ass. The crew and I are going to have to set drones up ahead of time.” He rolls his eyes in clear annoyance. He props a foot up on the ottoman in front of his arm chair, rubbing at his chin as he continues speaking. “So, pick something nice, brunch appropriate.” 

“You dressed me like an old rich white lady, so it should all be ‘appropriate’.” Peter answers a little dryly back. All it takes is looking at Quentin's face for Peter to realize he's pushed too far. He winces when Quentin gives him an agitated look. The man's hand curls into a fist in his lap as he narrows his eyes. Peter can feel a surge of dread roll over him. He bites at his bottom lip, sinking back slightly into the couch. 

“Did I ask for your color commentary, Pete? _Did I_?” He hisses back at the teenager, he sits up a little in the chair to glower at the teenager. His boot lands on the concrete floor with a loud enough thud it makes the teenager's gut twist in discomfort. "I don't remember wanting to hear your opinion." 

"Sorry." The teenager manages, keeping it to the simplest response. Peter ducks his head, ignoring everything in him telling him to run or outright get the first blow in. He's tried fighting before and it never ends well. His grip tightens on the throw pillow in his grasp, twisting at the decorative tassels for something to do with his hands. 

Peter knows if Quentin gets up, it’ll lead to something terrible. Either a shock or a direct hit. He tenses warily, hunkering down for what could come. Quentin releases a frustrated breath, running his hands through his hair. All the anger dissolves into something dismissive, Peter can hear it in the man's voice as he speaks. “Why don’t you shut the hell up and get out of my face?” 

The seventeen year old nods, trying not to openly be tense. “I’ll go now.” Peter waits for Quentin to lean back and motion him away before he leaves. He’s learned by now just walking away without directly saying anything is just as bad as talking back. 

His heart rate only settles once he has the bedroom door between him and the other man. He presses a hand against his chest, trying to steady himself as he looks over the compact bedroom, taking in the simple furnishings. He stumbles over to the bed, sinking down onto the familiar mattress as he kicks off his shoes. 

"It's okay, it's okay." He promises himself quietly as he sinks into the bed with a shaky exhale. "Everything is okay now." 

\---

Quentin's grip tightens on Peter’s arm as they walk towards the restaurant away from their parked car. Peter tries not to stare openly at how many people are drifting by them on the sidewalk. At best one or two people smile at him in passing, but beyond that, they’re just more faces in a crowd. He hasn’t been around this many people in a _year_. 

The sunshine feels nice against his back as he falls into step with his captor. The urge to just run directly into traffic hums under his skin. 

He could easily break away from Quentin in the crowd, disappear into another store… 

That brings up the question of whether Quentin would risk electrocuting him in public. He wouldn’t outright hit Peter here, but, the teenager isn’t unaware in some capacity Beck has the controller tucked into his coat’s inner pocket. 

All it would take was one shock and Peter would be on his knees. He has to shuffle the thought to run aside, just trying to force himself to relax. If he’s relaxed, Quentin will be relaxed. 

As long as he follows the rules, brunch will be fine. Make small talk when needed, otherwise just keep his head down and mouth shut. They come to a stop to wait in line in front of the restaurant. The restaurant itself is bustling with activity, from people lining up to get inside and people settling down on tables outside of the building itself under awnings. 

Peter can pick out the familiar faces of Team Mysterio amongst the brunch crowd. Victoria’s wearing ridiculous sunglasses with an equally ridiculous sunhat at one of the wicker tables outside, William is tapping away on a laptop whilst Guterman sits across from him. Peter can guess others of Team Mysterio are inside the restaurant. It is confirmation that even if he ran, the rest of the team would do their best to round him back up. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, stifling the urge to wince. 

“Ah, Quentin, Peter!” Brian’s voice cuts through the easy chatter of other people nearby. The broad shouldered blonde man strides forward around the line. “We have a table inside!” He motions for them to follow after him. 

Peter can feel Quentin brighten up, the teenager does his best to mimic the reaction. He waves at Brian with a small smile. 

“I should have known you’d beat us here, Brian. You early bird.” Beck chuckles idly, stepping out of line to join Brian. Peter keeps a loose grip on Quentin’s arm as he walks with his captor. Brian leads them into the restaurant, weaving through the crowd to a table towards the back. Half of the team is gathered already. 

Peter looks around, his gaze landing on Janice and another member of the team before his attention settles on the table of super heroes gathered.

The group all but call out bright friendly greetings at the pair. Peter just feels a little uncomfortable as he waves at the group. He murmurs greetings quietly as Quentin pulls a chair out for him to sit in. The seventeen year old sinks into the chair, folding his hands into his lap as Quentin sits down next to him. He’s purposefully crowding Peter against the nearest wall. 

Peter spends the rest of the brunch staring out of the large bright windows, admiring the people drifting by and trying to figure out just where they are. 

He knows they’re in the United Kingdom by the accents alone, but everything else is up in the air. 

When the menu comes, Peter takes the time to pretend he’s pursuing what he wants, but eyes the address and phone number listed on the menu. 

They’re in Sheffield or at least near enough the drive wasn’t long. 

Peter repeats _Sheffield_ over and over in his head.

\---

Quentin has left him alone for the moment, Peter feels almost overwhelmed where he’s seated on the couch as the party unfolds around him. Normally he’s not allowed at one of these, but Brian and Meggan’s want to see him again has pushed Quentin’s hand. Peter is being invited to more and more things around the front of the house. He isn't sure how he feels about any of it really.

Peter sips at water, just sinking further back into the couch. 

There are more European heroes present than he expected, though there are no familiar faces he can pick out beyond Brian, Meggan, Micromax, and Longshot. It feels almost overwhelming after being isolated with just Quentin after so long. 

Meggan settles down next to him on the couch, smiling brightly at him. Peter smiles a little more genuinely at her than he has at anyone else so far. “The ever reclusive Mr. Beck joins us today.” She teases lightly, before her expression softens. “How do you feel-?” 

Peter rubs the back of his neck, the pads of his fingers brushing against the lump of skin that has grown over the power inhibitor chip laid under the skin. “Oh, I’m, doing well as I can. I’m not really a party person.” That much is at least true, the few parties he and Harley had were never exactly blow out affairs.

“Either way, I’m glad you’re well enough to join the rest of us.” She pats his arm gently. Peter’s smile dims slightly as he nods. “I won’t be here very long, I still need to rest.” It’s an easy lie, one drilled into him repeatedly until he’s learned to just recite it. 

Meggan’s expression softens, the shape shifter and empath just eyes him. “You know, we’re here to help you, if things get… rough with Quentin.” 

The gentleness of the offer makes Peter go quiet, he clicks his teeth together as his gaze drops to the glass in his hands. “Thank you.” 

“I’m sure we can exchange numbers so we can talk.” 

Peter gives an awkward kind of laugh, he had no ready built in excuse for that. “I, don’t have a cell phone actually. Quentin and I never did discuss that.” 

Meggan’s brows knit together, “Well, do you have an email?” 

“Not currently, no. I don’t think it really transferred over dimensions.” He jokes weakly back. Quentin was going to kill him for this, god, Quetin was going to kill him for this. “I keep meaning to set one up, it just keeps falling off my radar.” 

The blonde woman doesn’t look any less concerned, and Peter is trying to swallow down the growing panic in his gut. He doesn’t understand why he’s panicking, why he’s scared. 

“Well, why don’t we set one up later together-? Brian was showing me how emails work last month.” She means this genuinely enough Peter just isn’t sure what to think. 

He sips at his water before rising from the couch, “I’m going to go to the kitchen, do you want anything to drink?” It’s more an attempt to deflect the concern. He isn’t sure what to do in this situation.

“I’m fine, thank you for offering though.” She frowns a little, Peter does his best not to panic over it as he turns and walks in the direction of the kitchen. He walks through the kitchen doorway, trying to steady himself out. Quentin is talking animatedly with Longshot, the two men comparing kills of monsters with one another. Quentin just seems smug as anything as he talks about shooting down an elemental with his (non existent) powers. Peter sets his half empty glass in the sink, just lingering by the counter staring at the snacks laid out. The idea of eating doesn’t appeal to the teenager at all. Even the scent of most of the food makes his stomach churn. 

He turns to watch Quentin and Longshot talk. Peter lingers at the edges of their conversation, half afraid to actually interrupt. 

“Quentin.” He speaks up when a lull finally comes up in conversation. “I- I’m not feeling very well, can, we go to bed?” 

Quentin turns his attention to Peter, on the edge of a scowl before reading the teenager’s expression. He smooths his expression over to something concerned. He spares Longshot a brief apologetic look before settling his hands against Peter’s shoulders. “I can’t leave our guests unattended, doll, but let me walk you back and get you situated.” 

He shifts his grip to place his arms around Peter’s shoulders, guiding the seventeen year old out of the kitchen through the living room in the direction of the back rooms. Peter’s gaze briefly finds Meggan on the couch. The concern on her face hadn’t lessened any. 

Quentin kisses him briefly before nudging him through the door. Once it’s shut Peter rubs at his mouth with an open grimace. 

Peter only realizes later, he could have said anything to Meggan and he could have left. He could have escaped. 

The thought haunts him the rest of the night, carrying him through Beck’s whiskey breath and cold hands.


	3. The sun will be guiding you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad boy time continues! Cause reasons.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos.

“You _had_ to make a damn comment about a phone? An email?” Quentin’s voice carries from across the room. Peter hunches into himself as something crashes nearby. From the sounds of it, one of the decorative lamps is in pieces. He tries to make himself as small as possible where he’s seated. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Peter!?” 

“She asked, I _wasn’t_ trying anything-” Peter attempts to reason but falls silent when the older man looks at him. Peter drops his gaze to the floor, wrapping his arms more tightly around himself. His fingers bunch around the loose fabric of his hoodie as he tries to just ride out Quentin’s anger. He bites back a flinch as the man knocks things off of a shelf with a angry sound. 

The man wasn’t drunk anymore, but the hangover from the party last night leaves him in an even worse mood than usual. Peter can only guess Meggan or Brian mentioned the possibility of an email to him during the morning call to get this level of reaction. 

“Fine, fine, _fine_ , I can fix this.” Beck breathes out in a frustrated breath. Peter looks up hesitantly, watching as Quentin runs his hands through his hair. The man’s expression is thoughtful, but irritated. Silence falls between them for a long moment. Long enough Peter starts to hesitantly uncurl from his protective position on the couch. 

“I’ll make a damn email, say it's yours, have someone send _little_ updates.” He waves a hand, gritting his teeth. “You should apologize to Janice, just adding to her workload with your little stunt.” 

“I didn’t even mean to!” Peter can’t stop himself from arguing, even if every smarter instinct of his knows he shouldn’t. He didn’t even bring the topic up in the first place, he shouldn’t be blamed for this. “Ms. Meggan asked me a question! If I didn’t answer she’d be suspicious!” 

Peter knows he’s made a mistake when Quentin takes a few steps towards him, his expression twisting into something familiar and horrifying. Peter feels his heart skitter across his ribs in panic. A cold kind of horror leaving him stuck in place for just a moment or two longer as Quentin draws closer. 

The growing rage written across Quentin’s face is more than enough to make Peter turn and volt over the back of the couch. He lands and twists away, running away from the older man. He weaves around living room furniture, making a beeline towards the back door of the house. 

Even without his abilities, he’s still faster than Quentin. It doesn’t mean much when he has _nowhere_ to go. Any sense of logic drops out of his head as he sees the sliding glass doors leading to the back yard. The hope of running outside into the countryside is all he has for a brief moment.

He all but collides with the reinforced glass door, struggling with the handle in desperation. He fumbles with the locks, frustrated when he can’t get it open. The upgraded locks with security codes means there is no way to open it without Quentin. 

A hand grabs at the back of his shirt, bodily hauling him away from the glass and throwing him to the floor with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. He stares up as Quentin steps forward, looming over him. 

The first kick comes before he can even get his bearings back. Peter cries out as another, and another rains down on him. All he can do is protect his face, curling into himself on the floor to try and soften the blows. 

Quentin doesn’t say a single word. 

\--

He is excused from any further outings, at least until the bruising on his ribs and arms heal over. Peter mumbles awkward excuses the one time he sees Meggan in passing before he disappears into the back of the house. He’s more than sure ‘his’ email to her is reassuring to a fault to keep anyone from realizing what is going on. Beck makes a point to update him jeeringly about the emails and update him for whenever Peter is finally allowed to see Meggan and the rest of the super hero team again. 

He just curls into himself and cries when he’s sure Beck isn’t around. 

He just wants to go home. 

He just wants to see May. He wants Ned, MJ and Harley. Even if he couldn’t be Spider-Man anymore, he wanted just to be with them. 

He wants a lot of things, but he can’t have them anymore. He’s just Peter Payton Beck now. That’s all he can be anymore. The thought is crushing in a way Peter hates. 

He focuses on New York distantly as the bruises slowly heal over. He dreams of New York, he dreams of swinging through Queens. Occasionally the dreams turn into nightmares where Mysterio turns the world into endless fog before he lunges forward to cut the webbing Peter is swinging on. In the dreams he falls forever until he inevitably snaps awake in terror. 

He wants to be anywhere but here. 

\--

The flurry of activity unfolding in the living room leaves Peter at loss of where to be. He hangs back awkwardly, watching as team Mysterio takes over the open furniture going over plans. Twenty people packed into a small space is almost overwhelming in a way. Peter just lingers in his bedroom’s doorway, peering out at the group. 

“Liverpool is close, but not _too_ close.” Victoria argues as she taps a pen against a map tacked up on a wheeled chalkboard near the couch. “It’s also important enough to get attention.” 

“Brian is helping with Shield now, so he should be quick to notice the pulses…” William adds, “We just need to be sure to get there a few days beforehand, set up and wait.” 

“Is it really big enough to compete with London?” Beck questions with a haughty kind of exhale. “Would the Queen give a damn about Liverpool?” Peter grimaces a little at the memory of London. Even now the casualty count makes him feel sick. He couldn’t prevent it and he tried so hard to. All he can hope is Happy wasn’t one of the people who died there. 

Guterman snorts noisily at that, leaning back in the loveseat he’s staked claim upon. “It isn’t London, but it's hard not to notice a giant energy creature attacking a city.” 

“So, we’re going with energy creatures now?” William cuts in, peering over his glasses at Guterman. “The hell did you cook up for that?” 

The taller man just grins back at the other man, waving a hand as he explains. “The elementals tore a hole between realities, so more monsters will be creeping in with time. I was reading over those released Shield documents to get more ideas. Half of the junk in those documents sounds like complet bull.”

“You were reading reports about Thor, huh?” Victoria quips easily with a flash of a smile. The group laughs amongst themselves. 

“We don’t have space alien god as an excuse, but interdimensional rifts are more than enough to give us leeway.” Guterman continues with relaxed ease. “E.D.I.T.H helps that along immensely.” 

Peter takes a few steps back into his own room, just listening. His door is ajar but no one even notices. He drifts over to sit down on his bed, just quietly taking in what is being said. 

He needs to warn someone. Peter isn’t sure how, but he _has_ to do something. 

\--

The next few days are nothing but meetings to hammer out specifics. What the creature is going to look like, just where the attack will take place, and how many casualties there will be. Eventually the group settled on some dates to head out and set up properly. 

Peter just stays out of the way as much as he can. He brings Quentin drinks when requested, but outright avoids lingering out in the open where meetings are taking place. 

He doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact he’s listening. Peter knows if he makes too much of a show he _will_ be locked in his room to avoid him actively listening in. Beck is paranoid, which only serves to make his team even more paranoid in turn. As long as he keeps his head down and looks defeated as he felt earlier, Beck won't even pay him much attention. 

He tries to memorize as much as he can. Just so he can convey it to someone, anyone, just- somehow. He can’t let something like London happen again. It’s his fault Beck got E.D.I.T.H in the first place. He needs to fix all of this. 

\--

“What do you think of Liverpool?” He asks Meggan quietly when they’re alone. It is one of the few times since his email mistake he’s been allowed to be alone with her. If not for Meggan and Brian’s worry over him, Peter knew he’d still just be in the back of the house reading the same handful of books over and over again. He's healed enough he looks normal again, but he's still draped in enough heavy sweaters no one can remotely see an inch of skin beyond his face and hands. 

Peter already knows that’s purely because Quentin is wrapped in a conversation with Longshot and Brian. The three laugh over something being said. 

Meggan pauses, brows knitting together as she tilts her head. “Liverpool?” 

“I’m just curious.” Peter murmurs quietly, “I thought about asking Quentin if we could go there _soon_ , everything seems very… _shocking_ there.” 

Meggan stares at him for a moment. “Peter…?” 

He hesitates before reaching out to take her hand in his own. “Can you… keep that in mind?” He smiles at her. The woman frowns somewhat back, but nods slowly. Her expression is thoughtful as she wrinkles her nose just slightly. 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” She pauses, “Just between us?” 

“Just between us.” Peter confirms with a slow exhale. Meggan squeezes his hands gently in her own. He releases her hands after a moment to smooth over the wrinkles of his sweater nervously. He wishes he could just tell Meggan everything. With Beck nearby that is an impossibility. 

Before Meggan can ask anything else, Brian’s voice breaks over their brief silence. “How are things over there?” Quentin and Brian are peering back at them as Longshot gets a drink. 

“Just dandy!” Meggan’s immediately cheery, covering up for the conversation entirely. Her natural energy rising to the surface. “I was telling Petey about the telly dramas!” 

“They’re very fascinating.” Peter agrees, letting Meggan ramble aimlessly about a show she’s watching. Peter can tell from the way Quentin’s eyes glaze over he’s not paying attention remotely. When Longshot re-joins the group again, he also immediately tunes out what is being said by the shapeshifter. 

Brian on the other hand arches a brow curiously, picking up on something but not commenting on it. “You better catch him up on all of that, love.” 

“I will!” She answers brightly wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders with a flash of her teeth. Peter does his best to not show his relief, just nodding with a thin lipped smile.


	4. Break out from society

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a smaller update, but I wanted to keep this hell train going.

Peter knows when the pulses finally do go off by the way Brian Braddock is all business the next time he and the rest of the team show up to the house. The group gather around the kitchen table in the front of the house. 

Quentin plays his role almost too perfectly, the man of the lost dimension. A man mourning for not being able to fix the problem. 

At best Peter follows his cues, looking agonized that the Elementals aren’t truly gone yet. All of it is being recorded and sent back to Quentin’s actual crew, so they can modify the initial plan as needed to match the superheroes' growing ideas. The earpiece the man wears is nearly invisible with the scruff of his hair covering it and everyone's focus being on the problem at hand. 

When Liverpool is mentioned, Meggan’s eyes meet his from across the room. Peter nods slowly, too afraid to draw much attention to himself. At best he makes a motion at his own ear, before his gaze cuts to Quentin. The blonde woman's brows knit together, but she _sees_ the ear piece and understands. At least Peter hopes so. 

He needs to play his part. He needs to keep his head down. Peter has taken a seat further away, just playing the sickly and sad spouse. A man distraught at possibly losing another home, another world. 

Beck barely even pays them any attention, moving the ‘story’ along to Brian and the other teammates. Quentin always dismisses Meggan unless he has to carry a conversation with her. It is about the same way he treats Peter. Peter is a nice background addition to Beck’s story, but not the important part given he’s a ‘civilian’. 

The group quickly mobilize, intending to leave within the next two nights. Meggan makes a point to hug him goodbye, giving him a squeeze. Peter has to hold himself back from outright clinging to her.She gives him a reassuring smile on her way out. That is as much comfort as Peter has gotten in a long time.

Quentin just laughs once he's sure they're alone, guiding Peter to the back of the house. Peter stumbles over his own feet at the shoving but adjusts to avoid falling over. 

"God, this is going to be perfect." Beck is grinning from ear to ear. Peter is locked in his room while Quentin goes over last minute details of his plans. 

\--

He presses a kiss against Peter’s brow, brushing his fingers through the small hairs on the back of the teenager’s neck. The seventeen year old just barely manages to avoid grimacing at the attention. 

“Keep an eye on the news, Peter.” Quentin’s lips pull into a pleased grin as he takes a step back. “Things are going to heat up in Liverpool real fast.” His hands settle against the teenager’s shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze.

“...You- aren’t going to kill a lot of people with this, are you?” He can’t stop himself from asking. Peter knows it's almost a pointless question to ask a man who destroyed the London Bridge for fame. 

“Eh, it’ll be enough.” He says dismissively, unconcerned with Peter’s worries. “Enough to be sure people remember Mysterio, remember our little gathering of European heroes.” 

“ _Please_ just… don’t-” He stops himself with an open wince as Quentin stares at him. “You don’t have to kill people to make yourself stand out.” 

If he can get out, he can do something. He can reach out to any other local heroes to tell them Mysterio is a _lie_. He told Meggan as much as he could, but it isn’t enough. 

“Peter, Petey, doll face.” His grip tightens on Peter’s shoulders, forcing Peter to look at him. The teenager wants to slide out of the man’s grip, but he can’t. “Listen. If we want this to stick, there needs to be stakes. Growing stakes. Have you not ever seen a movie before? Things don’t just drop off. They grow bigger.” He scoffs a little as he adds, “You forget how much worse it gets every time one of your Avenger pals came onto the scene?” 

The seventeen year old worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Every argument that comes to mind will just bounce off of Quentin. Peter knows that much, but he can’t stop from saying something. “People don’t need to die for it to grow bigger.” 

“Just leave it to the professionals, doll face.” He pats Peter’s cheek condescendingly before he draws away completely. “Enjoy your free TV time. I wouldn’t want you to miss the fireworks.” With that Beck turns to leave, grabbing a suitcase settled out next to the couch. 

He only pauses on his trek out to look back at Peter, smiling condescendingly, “Don’t get any ideas, Peter. Sure, I won’t be here, but, I’m watching.” 

Peter opens and closes his mouth, any thought of leaving dropping away. The pressing need to do something is outweighed by the fact he really _can’t_ leave. His hand flutters to press against the chip in the back of his neck. 

“I… I know.” He says haltingly, which is more than enough to confirm his thoughts in the other man's eyes, from the way Quentin's expression pinches into something briefly smug. Peter just shrinks into himself, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Just felt a reminder wouldn’t hurt.” Beck flashes him a smile, it is all teeth and malice folded into one expression. “Don’t start getting ideas, doll.” With that Beck makes his leave from the back of the house. 

All Peter can do is stand in the middle of the living room, watching as Quentin takes his leave. The teenager sinks into the couch, shaking as he hears the car start up. The silence that follows Quentin's departure is what finally breaks Peter's own silence. 

"Shit, shit, shit-" He breathes out, just scrubbing his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears come easily enough and Peter just cries into his own knees. 

\--

Peter swears to himself he won’t spend all his time watching the news. He swears he’ll focus on something else as any kind of reprieve. He _can’t_ do this to himself.

Instead, he ends up just glued to the couch, burrowed under several blankets as every news station runs footage of the growing attack. The electricity monster is even more horrifying in motion than it was on the page or in discussions Peter overhead. The fictional monster plays its part perfectly. It sends electricity running through bodies of water, takes out power from the grids, makes power lines burst into flame. The destruction the illusion causes is worse than London Bridge falling into the river.

The growing death toll just makes Peter feel cold and numb. He curls tightly into himself, just watching a newscaster talk rapidly over footage of Captain Britain, Longshot, Mysterio and Meggan battle against the beast. The battle itself a hard won victory that takes days to achieve. In that time _more _people die.__

If he had stopped Beck, this wouldn’t be happening. More people are dying because of _him_.

If he had been able to find Fury, he would have had help to stop all of this. If he had called Happy sooner, if he reached out to Pepper or May in some capacity something could have changed. Pepper promised he could call her whenever, he could reach out any time he needed after the funeral. He never took up the offer, not wanting to make things any harder on her. She has Morgan, she has Stark Industries. She didn't need him making things more complicated.

He should have reached out. He knows that now.

Instead, he's stuck here. 

A bitter pained laugh escapes Peter as he just curls more tightly under his blankets. He's earned this. He's earned whatever this is.

\--- 

The worst part is the strange queasiness that slowly settles over Peter. He isn't sure what it means. He isn't vomiting or anything like that. Certain smells just trigger this intense nausea he can't entirely explain. He spends the week alone getting sick from smelling specific scents. Nothing that would even normally make him queasy. Orange juice just makes his body freak out and its completely jarring.

His stomach is just feeling strange and he isn't sure why. Even so, Peter tries to keep with his normal routine as much as he can. Tries to push away from the TV, even if he ends up failing himself in that respect over and over again.

He ends up dumping coffee into the sink the one morning he tries to make some for himself, the coffee grounds themselves making his stomach do uncomfortable flips. Peter does what he can to combat it whilst he's still alone. He's aware enough that Quentin won't care. Quentin will probably make the queasiness worse by ignoring how Peter is feeling. He has expectations, and Peter knows he has to fall into line with them. 

Peter checks himself for a fever, he takes what rest he can when he isn't glued to TV to watch the disaster unfolding in Liverpool. He tries to treat himself the way May would have treated him. He goes to bed early, or at least _tries_ to. He eats as healthy as he can manage, just trying to find something bland that will settle his stomach and help him get over what bug he's caught.

When he goes to bed, he dreams of May, dreams of Ben, dreams of Mr. Stark. Even just their presence in dreams is comfort enough to help Peter relax.


	5. This ride is a journey too

_His breath shakes in his chest as he jolts forward, feet hitting the hard flooring of the bridge under him._

_He doesn’t need to see to know where the drones are._

_He feels them._

_His senses alert him to the rush of danger as gun fire peppers the air. He swings his fists and breaks through each drone that comes his way. Quentin’s voice rings further ahead, rage soaking through every syllable._

_He leaps forward, crashing through the next one. The crunch of metal, plastic and glass feel loud, almost louder than the bullets being shot._

_“You think you can win!?” Jeers the man at the end of the bridge. “Who do you even think you are, Peter!?”_

_Peter grits his teeth, weaving around the next drone as he runs forward through Beck’s illusion. “I’m Spider-Man!” He shouts back._

_Just as quickly as he gains momentum, he loses it. The flooring under him cracking, shuddering as the bridge gives out entirely._

_His eyes snap open just in time to see Quentin Beck snarling down at him._

_The world shakes and shivers around him. Just as suddenly he’s curled tightly into a ball in his bed back in Queens. His old bedroom, the one Uncle Ben painted by hand. Gentle hands coax their fingers through his hair._

_May’s voice is gentle, “Oh, honey, it’s going to be okay.” Her fingertips are cool against the sweat gathering at his temple. He opens his eyes to see the two standing over his bed, looking worried._

_“We got you, Pete.” Ben’s voice is reassuring, kind and warm. “We won’t let you go, got it?” He remembers their smiles, their promises of safety._

_He sobs, desperation breaking everything around him. The baby blue walls crack and shudder, turning into glass as he thrashes in the blankets. “May! Ben!”_

_“Keep fighting, Pete. You can do it.” Ben’s voice is distant._

_“You heard him.” May’s encouraging, and her voice grows tinny, crackling at the edges. “Keep fighting, baby.”_

_The bed cracks in half, blankets flying away, and he’s falling, falling towards the water under the bridge. All he can hear is gunfire and Beck’s laugh._

The teenager startles awake, eyelids snapping open as he stares at the ceiling overhead for a moment. Even in the darkness, he can make out the bumpy texture to the plaster. His gaze eventually shifts to the reinforced window of his room. From the lack of light creeping under the curtains, he can guess it isn’t morning just yet. 

He presses a hand against his chest, feeling his panicky heart beat under his fingertips. Peter sucks in a short breath, squeezing his eyes shut again. 

What reprieve he has doesn’t last very long as his stomach starts to roll. “Ugh.” He lets his hand drop to his side as he twists under the covers. It takes the teenager a moment to disentangle himself entirely from the fabric to stand up. His bare feet settle against the hardwood floor as he shuffles forward. 

He scrubs at his face with his hands, sighing audibly. He stumbles out of the bedroom down the hall. 

To his relief, he’s more queasy than vomiting his guts up. He’s only crouched next to the toilet for a few minutes before he stands back up cautiously. 

Peter will take that much. He flicks the bathroom light off on his way out, making a beeline towards the kitchen to chug some water. Anything to stifle the wavering queasiness. The lights click on automatically as he walks in. He drifts over to the cabinet to grab a plastic cup and fill it up with water. 

Without Quentin here, the house is almost _liveable_. Not being confined to his room at night feels like more freedom than he’s had in a long time. His line of thought is thrown off by his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He sips cautiously at the cold water, grimacing around the rim of the cup. 

At this point, the queasiness isn’t terrible. He’s not vomiting as much, which he’s happy about. He’s more frustrated by how fatigued he feels. Doing just about anything leaves him exhausted. He’s barely doing _anything_ and he has to sit down to gather up more energy again. The runny nose and weird bloating aren’t helping things either. 

“I must have caught the weirdest cold in the world.” He mutters lowly to himself before taking another sip of water. 

He checks the calendar hung on the wall, grimacing once again when he realizes Quentin is coming back sometime today. The red circle around the next two days with _Celebration with both teams!_ stand out startlingly so. 

By now, Peter will at least know what the actual death toll is. Who was possibly injured on the team. 

His mind jumps to Meggan, and he blows out a short choppy breath. Peter hopes, desperately she hasn’t said anything directly _to_ Beck. 

He forces himself to just not think about it, finishing off his water and setting the glass in the sink before making his way back to his bedroom. 

Beck is coming back, and Peter knows he’ll need to be rested enough to deal with the man.

\---

Quentin arrives precisely at 10am on the dot. He’s all dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, a loose jacket over his shoulders only makes him look too normal. He throws aside his luggage when he walks into the back of the house. 

Peter just watches him from his perch on an armchair, book folded against his chest. He dogears the page carelessly as Beck strides forward. The man forces a kiss on him and Peter puts up with it. 

Peter hangs back, watching the man unpack. For once Quentin is blessedly quiet. Almost too quiet. Peter would settle on leery if Quentin wasn’t so obviously happy. 

“All in all, I call this a job well done.” Quentin announces easily as he walks back into the main part of the living area. Peter looks up from his book, clicking his teeth together. “Wouldn’t you agree, dollface?” 

His lips pull into a grin, something that's decidedly too smug. All Peter can do is silently fume, hiding his anger the best he can. Even then, Beck sees right through him. 

“Not a fan of my work, Pete?” He presses a hand against his chest in mock offense. “I’m hurt.” 

“You _killed_ people. There isn’t much to be a fan of.” Peter says very quietly, knowing he’s toeing the line. If Beck was in a terrible mood, Peter knows he would be in trouble for arguing even slightly. The fact the man is all but buoyant and delighted means he laughs it off. 

“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, doll face.” He waves a hand as he strides further into the kitchen. “People need to believe in Mysterio. In my team of superheroes.” He chuckles as he crouches down to pop open a cabinet. He examines a whiskey bottle, arching a brow back at the teenager. “And here I thought leaving a teenager with this much booze would mean I’d come back to nothing.” 

Peter sputters a little, indignant at the man’s casual attitude. “I’m underaged.” Is as much as he can manage. He knows Beck doesn’t care, but what else can he even say? His grip tightens on the paperback in his grasp. 

“I forget how well behaved you are sometimes.” Beck rolls his shoulders carelessly as he sets the expensive bottle on the countertop, moving to pluck a glass from the cabinet nearby. Peter stays where he’s seated, just frowning. 

“Suppose I should be happy, wouldn’t want to see you become Stark Jr. in every way. Drunken debauchery wouldn’t suit you like it suited him.” 

The teenager bristles, unable to stop himself from hissing. “Leave Mr. Stark out of this.” 

Beck’s laugh edges on bitter, a sign Peter needs to back down. “Doll, I can’t. If he wasn’t interested in picking up after you, I wouldn’t have even gone after you.” He brings the glass over to the countertop, pouring himself a handle of whiskey. “Which, would be a real pity. You’re cute, Pete.” 

Peter forces himself to take a breath. He drops his gaze back to the paperback in hand. He’s crinkled the cover quite terribly at this point. Peter tries to gently smooth some of the crinkles out, apparently that doesn’t go completely unnoticed by Beck. 

“Better treat your things more nicely, dollface, unless you’re aiming to earn more things.” 

“I’ll treat them better.” He echoes weakly back. Quentin just chuckles, moving to take a sip from his drink. 

Peter lets the silence linger between them. He just opens his book to read, trying to be aware of the older man moving around the room. 

Quentin smugly turns the news on, forcing Peter to watch it. 

The death toll hit around a hundred or thousand people. Even now no one is wholly sure. Peter just feels queasy as he stares at the television. 

“Think I can aim for something higher next time?” The man questions with a flash of a smile. Peter just forces himself to stay quiet. If he doesn't stay quiet, he'll _scream_.

\---

The apparent victory leaves Beck overly relaxed for the next few days. The celebrations, commendations, awards, and interviews only further stoke his ego. His mood is pleasant enough he doesn’t even chide Peter for getting sick. 

Peter notices the man is leaving his office open when he works now. It's more than enough for Peter to peer in when Beck is distracted. The man’s desk is outfitted with a fairly new computer, a tablet and phone are charing from the same powerstrip woven through a hole in the desk. The desk itself is situated directly next to a very large window overlooking the countryside. The screen reflects back on the window. Peter knows he could see Beck’s password on the glass, but it would require longer term observation without being noticed. He knows the first three digits within a few days of watching in passing.

An idea occurs to Peter, and he quietly hates himself for it. He has to commit to doing something stupid. He picks a day he knows Beck is in a good mood, leaning against the doorway and asking if Beck has a moment. He makes sure to smile, to flirt enough Beck's attention is peaked. Rough hands coax across his body and Peter does what he can to just get through it.

He’s sore and aching when it’s all over. His pants have been kicked off somewhere leaving him bare on the expensive upholstery. He’s sprawled out on the couch across the desk. He acts like he’s fallen asleep after sex. He watches the glass from under his arm draped over his eyes. He remembers every digit typed into that password bar. 

He listens to the man type, only ‘waking up’ when Beck comes back to the couch. The computer is locked down again, and the man is eager to fuck him again. 

Peter complies, gritting his teeth as he tries to take what he can of a victory. 

\--

He waits until Quentin is gone for the next three days. Another interview, another need for his team to focus on him entirely. With how well behaved and sick Peter has been the past few weeks, none of them really check the footage anymore. He spends the first two days doing what he always does. He needs to be sure to wait.

He tries Quentin’s office door, relieved and terrified when he realizes its unlocked. The man forgot to lock it when he left. 

He unlocks Quentin’s computer. His hands are shaking as he stares at the desktop. 

He hesitates before he pulls up Quentin’s browser. The fact the man left it open is a relief. He clicks on ‘my email’ on the browsers bookmark bar. 

It takes Peter what feels like forever to remember Happy’s email, much less Aunt May’s. Everything feels like mush in the moment. 

He quickly types out a message, detailing as much as he can before he adds Pepper’s email as well. He writes ITS PETER PARKER WHO IS SPIDER MAN across the subject line, hoping they’ll see that and know it's him.

He sends the email, quickly deleting it from the sent bar after he’s sure its out. He makes a point to block and mute Happy, Pepper and Aunt May so Quentin won’t see or realize just what happened. 

“Please, _please_ work.” He breathes out. His hands are shaking as he closes the email tab and re-minimizes the browser. 

He locks the computer and exits the office. He makes sure the door is unlocked like he left it. 

Quentin doesn’t notice, nor does he even say anything about his office. Peter is just outright relieved and doesn’t push his luck. He gives into the man's advances to keep his mood good, keep him from thinking anything is wrong. 

\---

Peter just lets his eyes stay closed as he tries to count backwards. His stomach churns once again, leaving him stuck where he's seated in front of the toilet. After three weeks, he thought the strange queasiness would drop away. He was sure he'd be fine. Ever since he got his powers, he rarely got sick. Even with the inhibitors buried under his skin, he assumed it would hold true still to some extent.

Yet, he's still sick. He doesn't know why. He lets his mind drift, just trying to ride out his discomfort as the lights buzz overhead. He's glad his senses are dulled at least, otherwise every little noise would make this worse.

“I think I know just why you’re sick, doll.” The statement startles Peter from his queasy reprieve against the toilet seat lid. He sits up awkwardly on his knees to squint at the other man. Beck lingers just outside of the doorway, seeming far too pleased with himself already.

“...You do?” He questions warily of his captor. 

Quentin walks into the bathroom, waggling a small box back at the teenager. “Maybe give this a try.” He drops it next to Peter. 

The teenager squints at him before picking it up. His heart drops when he sees it is a pregnancy test. “N-No! No way!” He shakes his head, dropping the box onto the floor.

“Peter, I’ve been riding you bareback this entire time. Did you think nothing would ever happen?” The man questions with a smirk. He’s so smug all Peter wants to do is scream. “What do they teach for sex ed at schools these days?” 

Peter grimaces at that, he hesitates before picking up the package again. “I’m… I won’t be.” He protests weakly, just wanting to shrink into himself. 

“Take the test.” Beck orders easily, “If you’re not pregnant, means I have to take you to a doctor.” The man turns, making his way back out of the bathroom. 

Peter just stares at the package. “It won’t- it won’t be.” He promises himself. 

\---

He stumbles out of the bathroom an hour later. His expression is enough to make Quentin break out laughing, the man grinning from ear to ear. Peter just wants to shove the test down his throat and watch him choke on it.

“If your face is anything to go by, you _are_ pregnant.” 

All the teenager can do is nod numbly. Peter feels like his world is crumbling in on itself. He bided too much time. He waited too long to try all of this. He presses a hand tentatively against his belly, just horrified and scared in equal measure. He didn't _want_ to be pregnant. He wasn't even sure if he wanted a baby before any of this.

The older man strides over, pulling Peter into his arms. The teenager doesn’t even try to fight the hold, but remains stiff in Quentin’s arms. “Doll face, it’s not the end of the world. It just the start, now isn’t it?” 

“What-?” He chokes out looking back up at the man. “What do you mean-?” 

“Doll, you think we’ll stop with just one?” His smirk makes Peter’s stomach twist itself into knots. “I think three is a good number, don’t you?” 

Peter shakes his head, “N-no!” He tries to push away from Beck, panic runs through him as he can’t stop himself from tearing up. “No, I- _No_!” 

“It’s not like you’re going to be Spider-Man again, doll face. Might as well keep yourself busy somehow.” He gently taps his fingers against Peter’s lips as the teenager stares up at him shiny eyed and horrified. Peter just goes silent, stuck on anything else he could say. Anything that isn’t him breaking into a sob. He can't cry in front of Beck.

“You wanted to be normal, remember? Consider this your new normal.” He laughed lowly, all but giddy. “Spider-Man died fighting an elemental, so, _Peter Beck_ gets to be a stay at home dad.”

“Thats-” He chokes on his own words, breath shaking in his chest. “I don’t want this.” 

“It’s yours now, sweetheart.” He pats Peter’s cheek before stepping away. Peter wobbles where he stands as the man continues speaking. “Relax, you have a whole new life to think about now.” He pats Peter’s back firmly, “Guess your doctor’s appointment will be to see just how far along you are, huh?” 

Quentin does not wait very long at all to make an announcement. He’s still flying high on his recent victory to even be patient. Peter is present, and somehow manages a smile and lasts through prying friendly questions. People seem excited for them. Quentin’s loud excited exclamations about a new life in a new dimension hold people’s attention well enough. He weaves it into his storyline so easily.

He isn’t unaware of the uncertain edges to Brian and Meggan’s smiles as they offer him congratulations. He tries to act excited even if he feels like his chance to escape has grown so much slimmer now. He’s desperately hoping his emails actually reach Pepper, May and Happy. The lack of anything happening makes him think nothing is going to come of it. He took that risk, for nothing.

Peter keeps hoping he’ll miscarry, that being so young means his body can’t handle this. He's _just_ a teenager. He was a teenager with all kinds of health problems before the spider bite. That would carry to a baby, right?

The pregnancy sticks, and all he can do is coast. He’s locked more into the back, his outings cut even shorter. He can’t leave the house anymore. The brief sense of freedom that came with being alone, much less going out with the team closes as abruptly as it opened up. 

Quentin tells the team he's going to take a step back from patrolling, from hero duties. He'll be happy to partake in interviews and TV spots, but he has to be present for his _family_. 

“Can’t let anything happen to my husband, and baby, now can I?” Beck smiles at him, a threat hidden in a casual sentence no one else pays much mind to. Peter does everything in his power not to just give up. Even if the idea is so tempting. 

\--

The next time he sees the Excalibur team, a name Captain Britain came up with apparently, they all look fairly exhausted. The meeting they have at the front of the house is fairly subdued, but celebratory. The baby shower is going to happen in a few weeks, a bunch of super heroes Peter has never met will show up. After that, Quentin managed to score another interview, something on TV. The entire team will be attending. The social calendar is full for all of them. Except Peter, who is even more housebound than ever. 

Peter smiles a little when he makes eye contact with Meggan. She returns the smile and sidles up to him. The two of them are just all but unnoticed by the rest of the party. 

She sinks into the chair next to him. “How are you feeling?” She questions, with a curious arch of her brow. There are so many things on the tip of his tongue he wants to say. “Pretty good right now. Nervous about Quentin leaving again. You know… with the baby on the way.” That much is true in a way. He wants to get into Quentin’s computer to try and email people again, but he needs to wait. The baby is a set back. He can make this work. He has to. 

She makes a sympathetic noise at that, her hand finds a spot against his shoulder. She squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. All you need to do is rest.” She offers in turn, “A little time away wouldn’t hurt now would it?” 

He searches her face, wondering what she’s thinking. “I guess not.” The two fall into a relatively comfortable silence for a moment before Meggan smiles at him, balancing her chin against her knuckles. Her eyes are bright, curious, friendly. 

“Do you remember that book you mentioned last month, Good Omens was it-?” 

Peter is confused for a second, but forges onward. “Oh- yeah. Um, I nearly forgot we talked about it.” 

“I was wondering if I could borrow it, next time we meet. You mentioned having little foot notes in there? You’re a funny sort Peter. I’d like to hear what you think about it.” She keeps her tone casual, normal speaking voice. 

The realization of what she means makes his heart skitter across his ribs. “Oh, of-of course.” Meggan doesn't mention notes again the rest of the conversation, but Peter understands. He knows what she wants. The offer is there, and Peter will take it.


	6. The secret inside of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another immediate update since I feel bad about how small some of the chapters are, lol

Peter makes a point to slowly pick up origami. Being locked inside means he has the time to remember some of the shapes he was taught in art class. He practices from muscle memory, mostly making paper cranes and paper stars. Stray bits of paper turn into various shapes. His paper stars go from lumpy to actually at least looking a little like stars. 

He knows he should try the computer, but the worry about being caught keeps him from going for it the three days Beck is gone. If he can get his words to Meggan, he can get out more immediately. Actual notes would be too obvious, something Quentin would show interest in if he saw Peter writing out notes to tuck into the book. 

Origami is at least a layer between. He starts filling a jar with ugly paper stars. He strings up paper cranes in his room. 

Once Quentin comes back, Peter swallows his pride and asks for a book of Origami folding. 

“Are you gonna take knitting up next, doll face?” The man questions with a derisive snort. “What brought this up?” 

“Well,” Peter tucks some loose curls behind his ears, forcing a smile. “If we’re going to be starting a family, I should keep busy, right?” 

The older man chuckles lowly, lips curving into a pleased smirk. “Good to see you’re adjusting.” He pulls Peter against him. The teenager tries not to wince against the kiss that deepens. He reaches out to loop his arm around the other man’s neck to pull him closer. He stumbles as Beck guides him in the direction of the couch. 

He earns three books on Origami. 

Peter has to resist spelling out ‘FUCK YOU’ in origami letters. Picking a fight now wouldn’t help. He focuses on making each of every paper craft inside the first book. He doesn’t want to linger on one thing too specifically. He wants Beck to grow bored of the idea and pay it no mind. The man seems to enjoy watching some of the crafting at least. 

Origami bookmarks come up in the other two books, and he makes a point to make a few of each. Peter makes the corner bookmarks, the ones with animal heads at the end, ones shaped like hearts. 

He writes messages on specific ones, out of the green paper he has and tucks it into the worn paperback of Good Omens. 

Quentin doesn’t even look at it twice. He makes fun of Peter for the uglier origami creations. Peter bites his tongue and lets it be.

He’s picking his battles. 

\---

Peter outright grimaces when he realizes he’s already starting to show. He hesitates, resting a hand against his stomach. He traces his fingers along the swell as he just stares at it a moment longer. Even with his pajama top on, he can see the shift and he isn’t even sure what to think. 

If, no- _when_ he escapes, he’s not even sure what he’s going to even do. Will he actually raise the baby? Could he and May afford that? Will the baby have super powers? 

Could he even adopt out the baby? Would that even work? He needs to talk to May and Pepper about the possibilities. Pepper would at least know, she’s probably looked into all the paperwork ever about babies. She was always on top of everything she got involved in. 

He lets his hands fall away from his belly to twist across the mattress. He lays back down for a few more moments, blowing out a slow sigh. Exhaustion makes the idea of getting out of bed almost feel impossible. 

He manages it, somehow, going through the motions. Beck insists Peter keep ‘busy’, and forces the teenager to make him breakfast for the next few days. "If you're going to be a _mother_ , you might as well learn to cook." Beck sneered. Peter has to resist hitting him with a spatula. He just keeps his head down and goes through the motion of cooking. 

The smell of orange juice still makes Peter’s gut churn. If he ever sees orange juice again after this, he’s going to scream. 

\--

The teenager just stares at the older man, openly confounded. He cautiously folds the origami book against his chest as he stares up at the man. “I- what?” His afternoon reading had been cut into by Quentin striding into the room with an announcement. 

“Since you’re pregnant, after you’re done being sick, you should just stay in my room at night.” Quentin repeats a little less kindly than earlier. “I don’t want you attempting _anything_ while I’m asleep.” His gaze drops to Peter's stomach with clear unspoken intent. 

Peter grimaces at that, unable to contain it. He stutters a little over his next sentence. “I-I wasn’t going to- to kill the baby.” He had been trying to think of anything bad to eat that would induce a miscarriage somehow. Peter has been drawing a blank on it. 

The older man doesn’t look particularly convinced as he crosses his arms over his chest. “The thought crossed your mind, doll face. I can tell.”

The brunette has to bite back a frustrated noise. “I don’t want to lose the baby.” The lie feels tenuous and strange in his mouth. Beck sinks down on the arm of the couch, crowding Peter without hesitation. 

“You’re adjusting, but, I know you’re still trying to get your way, Peter.” The warning in his voice makes Peter’s blood run cold. Did Beck know about the computer? If he did why has he been in such a good mood? “Don’t think I don’t watch you.” 

“I-I know you watch me.” Peter stammers awkwardly back. He shrinks a little back, desperately hoping guilt isn't obvious on his features. “You’ve always told me…” 

“I figured I should remind you.” He taps a finger under Peter’s chin, forcing the teenager to look at him. Beck’s expression is hard, menacing as he holds Peter’s gaze. “You aren’t a smart as you think you are, doll. So don't try getting any ideas in that pretty head of yours.” 

The seventeen year old swallows anxiously. “I- I know.” He whispers in turn, feeling his heart skitter in panic. 

Beck just stares at him for a moment or two longer before relaxing somewhat. The older man exhales a little, shaking his head somewhat as he continues more casually, as if he hadn't just threatened Peter. “Besides, we need to make room for a nursery, now don’t we?” 

Peter nods numbly, his grip tightening on the book in his grasp. “W-will the entire room become a nursery?” That feels like a safe enough follow up question. Enough to stall any further anger on the unpredictable man’s part. Placating Beck tends to be the safest option. 

“Just some of it. Once the baby is here, you’ll be staying in the room with him.”

The use of 'him' to refer to the baby catches Peter's attention easily. Peter’s gaze drops to his belly, his brows knit together uncertainty. Maybe he's just missing something obvious about pregnancy. “I… can you tell this early?” 

“Oh, I just know it’s going to be a boy.” The man answers with a low amused sound, Beck if anything is more back on his normal level of smug. It's better than angry Quentin, but Peter still hates it. He'd rather just go home. “A Quentin Jr.” 

“...Can, I pick any names?” Peter questions a little nervously. Why is he even asking this? Does it matter? The teenager struggles against his own thoughts. 

The man stares at him for a very long moment, long enough Peter contemplates just taking his before releasing a put upon sigh. “Fine, a few. I’ll look them over.” 

Peter mutters a quiet, “Thanks.” He doesn’t push the conversation any further. 

What else can he say? 

\---

The baby shower is in full swing, with tacky baby themed decorations strung up around the front of the house, food laid on tables, and themed games in certain corners. If he wasn’t being forced to have a baby, maybe he’d find this cute. For now it feels almost suffocating. 

There are more people he doesn’t recognize present. All people Peter assumes Beck wooed to his cause after the last Elemental attack. The news of a new baby in the super hero community is more than enough to encourage people to show up. 

Peter picks through the crowd, happy to pick out Meggan’s bright blonde hair. He approaches her, finding himself smiling. She seems to sense him, turning away from her conversation. She waves Brian off casually as she steps forward to meet Peter halfway. The blonde woman smiles easily back. 

He presses the book into Meggan’s hands. “Here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.” He says warmly, trying to keep himself from getting too excited. “They even made a TV show about it recently.” 

Meggan brightens, tucking the book carefully against her chest. “I remember seeing an ad for it on telly.” She admits easily, her voice breezy and overly relaxed. “Then, I remembered you had a copy! So thank you!” 

“No problem.” He hopes she reads every note he left carefully tucked into the margins of the book. The origami bookmarks are carefully made, and Peter hopes Meggan understands how to unfold them. 

“Tell me what you think, next time we see each other. It's… more fun to talk face to face about books.” He doesn’t want to directly say ‘don’t email me’ given Beck is nearby. Janice still is emailing Meggan whilst pretending she’s Peter. If Beck asks why Peter said that, Peter can at least say he doesn’t want to bother Janice with having to actually read the book. She’s _so_ busy after all. 

Meggan understands the implication, nodding, “Lets say baby news for email then?” 

“Yeah.” He breathes out, trying to tamp down on the relief that wants to escape. He can’t look too genuinely happy. Peter opens his mouth, about to speak again when a young woman his own age calls out from the front entrance of the house. “Meggan!” Beck spares her a glance from where he’s standing, but he’s wrapped up in conversation, so he doesn’t come to interfere. 

The young woman eagerly shuffles through the crowd to come to a stop next to them. Her brown hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, though it's threatening to spill out from how hastily it has been pulled up. “Hey! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” 

Meggan brightens, reaching out to draw the young woman into a hug, swaying in place. “Kitty!” She draws back from the hug with a laugh. “Kitty, this is Peter.” 

The girl’s green eyes widen a little in a flash of understanding. Peter isn’t sure what exactly it means. “Oh! Pete! Hey!” She hesitates before reaching out to touch his arm. Her lips curl into a warmer smile. “Meggan has told me so much about you!”

The seventeen year old blinks in surprise. “Oh-?” 

“All good things.” She answers with a playful wink. “Congrats on the baby by the way. I’m sure you’re excited.” 

Peter just nods, stumbling over his words. “Yeah- I- we are.” He spares Beck a brief glance, but happily is folded into Meggan and Kitty’s conversation. Meggan shows Kitty the book, and the brunette gives Peter a thumbs up. “I heard this book is great!” Peter is happy to fall into conversation with the two, relaxing just marginally for once. 

He gets carted away from the two women to sit down by Beck eventually. Gifts are opened and Peter just awkwardly thanks people for their kindness. 

He puts up with people invading his personal space to touch his belly. He’s barely three months along at this point, and he isn’t sure why people want to touch him. If not for Beck’s sharp grip at his elbow, he’d ask people to stop. 

Before he’s shuffled off to the back, he catches sight of a furry blue man talking quietly with Kitty and Meggan. 

\---

“You have new teammates?” Peter questions over breakfast, poking at his slightly burnt scrambled eggs. He approaches the question cautiously, trying to gauge Quentin’s mood. So far the man seems happy this morning. “Are… you going to use them for a mission?” 

The older man looks up from his own breakfast. “It’s in the cards. Why?” He narrows his eyes. 

“I just wanted to know. So, we could… keep the story consistent.” He offers back, grimacing at the look on Beck’s face. The man just watches him for a long moment, before he settles back into something relaxed. Peter barely bites back a relieved sigh. He had judged right, he judged _right_. 

“Wouldn’t hurt for you to meet them. Keep up our cover stable.” He muses, rubbing his chin. His five o'clock shadow is starting to turn into a scratchier beard. Peter hates how it feels when Beck tries to kiss him. “I should give you their files, redacted so you don’t get any ideas.” 

Peter nods, trying to keep his tone casual. “Of course.” He lets his gaze drop as he starts to eat his eggs. Any information he can get is good information.

By the time lunch rolls around, Quentin drops a few packets onto the table in front of Peter. He picks them up cautiously and reads about Kitty Pryde and Kurt Wagner. 

\---

Waking up to Team Mysterio in the house is already a bad sign. Peter can hear them moving around as he burrows more deeply into his blankets. Worry just makes the teenager tense where he’s laying, slowly sitting up as he tries to listen. Liverpool hasn’t even gotten very far in rebuilding the wave of destruction that unfolded. 

Beck wouldn’t be planning another attack already? Would he? 

“Damn it.” He breathes out, cautiously scooting off of the bed to peer out of his room. 

The familiar chalkboard has been pulled up, drawings taped to the front as the team discuss possibilities. Peter steps back from his doorway, clicking his teeth together in frustration.


	7. Tomorrow is another day

“Where else do we have to go-?” William questions, “They are Elementals, right? Haven’t we used all the elements so far? Hell, we combined them in London.” 

“We used electricity already…” Janice agrees quietly in turn, Peter doesn’t see her but he can hear the frown in her voice. 

“Combine them in new ways.” Beck says carelessly, “Electricity and water would be worth doing.” 

“What’s the justification for them coming together?” 

“They get stronger with every fight.” Guterman reminds the group at large. Peter can hear him typing something out, the clack of his keyboard feels almost obnoxiously loud. “Seeing that they have stronger opposition means they’re finding new ways to continue their mission.” 

“What if we do something like… It starts mimicking people’s powers?” Doug throws out with some excitement in his voice. “Meggan is a shapeshifter right? It could adapt her powers somehow after another fight?” 

There is a pause amongst the group before someone laughs, “You’re a fucking genius, Doug.” 

Peter grimaces a little. He hates the fact any of this is coming up. 

Guterman is typing more quickly now, but carries on talking without hesitation. “We just have to make sure to lay it on thick that it isn’t really a living being as much as a force of nature. Meggan can feel people’s emotions if they’re open to it, and adjust herself to them. If she doesn’t feel anything, we’ll have trouble.” 

“You have no idea how happy I am that chick can’t shut up.” Beck chuckles darkly. “I’d love to _never_ hear her talk about ‘Telly’ ever again, but god, you ask her a question and she spills.” 

“We have more than enough data on her fighting now to try and bring this in. We just need to do a couple test runs.” William muses casually from where he’s seated. If Peter peeks out from the cracked doorway, he can see the man. He has to wonder if any of these people know what Beck does to him here? What happens when they aren’t around, or are they happy it's not happening to them? 

“We need to take out one of them. Someone on the team has to die, you know to raise the stakes a little.” Victoria is all business, tapping a piece of chalk against the blackboard. 

“I don’t know about killing them.” Doug is more reluctant from how he sounds. There is some murmuring amongst the group about that much.

“Not yet.” Beck states easily, Peter can feel the grin in his voice. “Let it pick up on Meggan’s powers first. Then, then we’ll have it, maybe kill her husband? That would be dramatic irony.” 

“And also tie back to Mysterio’s backstory. He nearly lost his spouse, she lost hers. Shared grief.” Gutterman claps his hands together, “Damn, that would be a good way to keep the team tied to you.” 

“Meggan already has an annoying soft spot for Peter, so she’s going to latch on and stop being obnoxious with her little questions.” Beck adds casually, he shifts enough his boots hit the floor and makes Peter grimace slightly. A flutter of fear hits him before he can completely swallow it down. 

“I’d _love_ to stop writing those emails.” Janice muses with a chuckle, earning more laughter in turn. “Guess it’ll be mostly a baby newsletter for now.” 

Peter backs away from the door, moving to sink into his chair near the ajar doorway. He can’t see any of them at this point, but exhaustion keeps him from doing much now.

“What’s the plan for the whole baby angle? Do I need to write anything specific about it?” 

Beck sighs, going quiet for a moment before he speaks. “We need to make the baby important, but keep Peter out of sight. I’d rather his little friends not know he’s alive, or start kicking up a fuss.” 

“Say your family wants privacy, release one baby picture. Emphasis your want for privacy.” Victoria offers, starting to write something from the sounds of chalk against the board. “We already have everything registered under an LLC. So any paparazzi won’t be able to track the house.” 

“Even then, _I_ have E.D.I.T.H, anything I don’t want up won’t stay up very long.” The amusement in Beck’s voice is clear enough. “I like that though, Mysterio wants privacy, he wants his team to have privacy. A good stand out to the disaster that was Stark.” Peter clicks 

“We should have E.D.I.T.H start going over footage of the fight from last time.” 

“See if she can pick up anything about Wagner and Pryde?” 

“I’ll get her moving on it. See what footage she can find from security cameras, social media, everywhere.” Beck states in turn, groaning as he pops his back. The rest of the team talk amongst themselves, moving around. 

“Peter!” 

The seventeen year old startles, shuffling out of his chair with a grunt as he tries to act like he was in bed. “Coming!” He calls, hoping it isn’t obvious he was listening. He opens the door the rest of the way, rubbing at his eyes a little.  
“Do- you want me to get you something?” He’d rather just ignore the man and go back to bed. 

Beck smirks at him, “Good answer, doll. How about you grab me a drink?” 

Victoria rolls her eyes somewhat, but doesn’t look away from what she’s working on. “Can’t you get it yourself?” Her question earns a jovial kind of laugh out of Quentin. He crosses one leg over the other as he beckons Peter over. 

The teenager walks over, trying to keep his face as neutral as he can. He stops next to the armchair Quentin is seated in. The man reaches out without hesitation to drape a possessive arm around Peter’s waist. Peter clicks his teeth together in discomfort, but keeps his mouth shut.

“Why should I? I have a husband to grab me things.” He jeers before flicking his gaze up at the teenager. “Grab me one of the water bottles from the fridge.” 

Peter nods wordlessly stepping out of Beck’s grasp to head towards the kitchen. He’d love nothing more than to knock the bottle directly into the man’s face. 

He needs to figure out a way to tell Meggan, to warn the rest of the team. He needs to do something besides _wait_.

\---

He lingers near the door, hesitating for a moment as he listens to the quiet that settles over the house. Only the sound Peter could pick up was the wind buffeting the sides of the house, making the foliage outside shift and rattle. He’d love to be outside, to feel the wind on his face. He stares out of the window at what he can see of the driveway, Quentin’s car is gone. He’s alone again. 

He just soaks in the sounds for a moment, debating with himself. He needed to use the computer, or at least make an attempt to use it. 

Peter isn’t sure when Quentin will be back, at best the man said he’d be home late. He makes a point to wait an hour, out of pure caution before he finally rises from the couch to approach the office. 

He tests the door knob, releasing a breath when the door opens. 

He steps into the office. He makes a beeline towards the computer. He is halfway through inputting the password when the floorboards behind him creak. 

If he had his spider sense, it would have gone off. Instead he only has a moment to look over his shoulder before a closed fist collides with his face. Peter yelps, staggering away from the desk. Calloused hands grab at his shoulders, slamming him more bodily into the solid concrete wall on the other side of the desk. 

Quentin Beck bares his teeth back at the teenager, anger written clearly on his features. He crowds Peter against the wall, blocking him from going anywhere. Beck peers down over the rim of E.D.I.T.H’s frames. 

“Do you really think I didn’t know what you were doing, Peter?” The man questions coldy, his grip tightening on Peter’s shoulders. Fear rolls through Peter as his mind tries to come up with something. 

“I- you left!” Peter stammers out, trying to shrink out of the older man’s grasp. He struggles, but is boxed in he has nowhere to go. “I saw you!” He saw Beck leave the house, saw him drive off. 

“Doll face. Illusion technology, remember? ” He raises a hand to cup Peter’s cheek in his palm. He forces Peter to look at him. “You forgot to clear the history on the computer when you used it.” 

The seventeen year old’s eyes widen, a cold feeling settles over him. “I- I didn’t…” 

“Doll face, sweetness, Peter, I have footage that matches up to your little attempt perfectly. I checked the time stamps.” He pats Peter’s cheek condescendingly, “I was waiting to see if you’d try it again. See if you’re that stupid.” 

Peter chokes a little, panic making him lock up in place. If he acted now, if he waited for Beck to be busy monologuing he could break his hold and get away, but he couldn’t act. Fear kept him locked in place. “N-no-” 

“You _are_ that stupid.” Beck continues as if Peter hadn’t spoken. “If you tell me just who you emailed, maybe I’ll be nice.” 

Peter finds himself unable to say anything, lies come to mind, but he isn’t sure which one could actually stick. What would protect him? Protect the people he cares about? Protect the baby? 

The open hand slap stings, making Peter jar further into the concrete wall. His shoulder blades dig into the cold concrete behind him. His voice is still just caught in his throat, all he can do is grunt in surprise and pain. 

“Start talking, Doll. I’m losing my patience.” 

“You- you can’t do this.” Peter says in a rush, his mind is running fast as he tries to put together an excuse. “I’m pregnant. The others are going to want to see me. If you hurt me- they’ll know!” 

Beck pauses just looking at him, before laughing mockingly. “You think I’ll hurt you where they can see? Give me a little more credit.” A predatory kind of smirk pulls across his lips. “I won’t hurt the baby, you, I can hurt you enough you’ll regret this.” 

Peter sinks back against the wall, horror pools in his gut as he tries to shove Beck away. “Don’t.” The older man bats away his attempt at shove, rolling his eyes. 

“If you had behaved, I wouldn’t have to do this.” The man sighs, grabbing Peter by the front of his shirt, dragging him out of the office. “Look what you made me do, Peter.” He strides into the living room area with ease. 

The teenager cries out as he’s thrown onto the couch. He shrinks back into the cushions, scrabbling to try and get up. A firm knee to the chest keeps him in place. 

“E.D.I.T.H, be a doll and power down the drones. Cut the feeds, erase the last few minutes of footage from the files.” 

Peter doesn’t hear the AI’s response, but he sees drones come into view in the corners of the room. His gaze flicks back up to Quentin. 

“Please, don’t-” He starts before he’s hit again, hard enough to make his vision swim. He hears the click of the glasses being taken off and set aside. 

“Just be good, won’t you, doll face?” Beck questions, digging his knee into Peter’s chest. “Make it easier on yourself.” 

\--

A tired kind of exhaustion colors the next few days. Exhaustion and pain just radiate through the pregnant man’s body. The bruises on his legs, thighs, hips, back, and arms are healing slowly. The sprained ankle on top of everything else makes what there is of his healing factor struggle to keep up. Beck pumps him full of some medication that just makes him even more tired. Peter knows he’s lost more than a few days at this rate. 

All Peter can do is curl into a ball, burrowing into the blankets laid over the bed. He could almost call this bed rest. Almost. He still has to stagger out of bed on his bad ankle to go to the bathroom or help Beck with something. He fumbles to hold onto a book, breathing heavily as he tries to shift and it makes pain flare across his back. Even laying on his side doesn’t help, it just brings his hips into contact with the mattress. 

Beck bothers to check on him to ensure he rests and eats, but feels more annoyed than anything else he has to help Peter. 

He half heartedly listens to plans take form in the other room. The rest of the crew have shown up to finish planning the next Elemental. As far as Peter can tell, they settled on some combination of water and electricity. He can only guess it’ll get stupider with time. He tries to read, but keeps dozing off mid-way through chapters. 

He’s half dozing when the sound of cars leaving startles him awake. The seventeen year old blinks blearily, shifting vaguely to look over at the bedroom doorway. Quentin is moving around the main living area, vaguely tidying up. Peter watches him with a quiet kind of loathing before he shifts to try and read. 

The words keep blurring together, smudges of letters and numbers that mean very little after a certain point. His head droops, and he dozes again, his breath steadying out. 

“Getting some quality reading time in?” 

The teenager startles, floundering as he sits up slightly, “I- yes-” He stammers out weakly, his grip tightening on the paperback in his grasp. Beck lingers in the doorway looking amused. 

“All the drooling you’re doing into the book says you’re getting something out of it.” The man jeers casually, he takes a few steps into the bedroom. “How about I get you a few new books?” 

Peter squints at him, “...Do I need to earn them?” The idea of having sex right now sounds awful. Peter would rather just read this book over and over again opposed to tolerate the older man using his body. 

“I think you learned your lesson, doll. All the agony you’re in is enough for now.” He shrugs, ever casual, friendly for a man who beat Peter into submission. 

Peter almost asks ‘what’s the catch’ but keeps his mouth shut, just staring at Beck for a long moment. “If… you can find books, I’d like that.” He says diplomatically as he can manage. 

“I’ll bring your dumb origami shit in here. Might as well keep you amused.” 

Peter murmurs his thanks awkwardly, watching the man leave the room warily. 

What was Beck planning? 

\---

The answer to his question doesn’t come immediately, which only makes Peter more leery. Given he’s mostly stuck in bed, and banned from seeing anyone else, he can’t do much but wait. He starts to feel better bit by bit. His healing factor makes the bruises on his inner thighs fade first. The bruises on his back start to slowly mend as well, which makes laying easier for now. 

Quentin Beck suddenly becomes doting and it sets off every alarm bell in Peter’s mind. He half expects an unwanted caress to turn into a back hand. The man is sweet when he’s helping, but his temper flares if Peter so much as breathes wrong. 

Peter keeps his head down, just trying to wait this out. 

He can wait it out. He can figure out what Beck is planning. 

Peter just folds origami, bit by bit trying to keep himself distracted from what is likely to happen next. He has a bad feeling, and he isn’t sure what to make of it. Team Mysterio show up once or twice for more meetings, but he doesn't pay them much mind. 

He already knows what their Elemental is. He just needs to think of a way to warn someone. Anyone. He's hurt, but he can't give up. 

\---

He blinks slowly, sluggishly trying to move. The seventeen year old groans a little as he shifts where he’s laying. He realizes after a moment or two he’s bundled under a few blankets, tightly enough he can’t move. 

He’s also in the backseat of a car. He stares at the interior, trying to parse out if he’s dreaming. He stares straight ahead at the countryside moving past them. 

“Nice to see you’re finally joining the living, doll.” 

His gaze jolts to the front of the car. He picks out the back of Quentin’s head, the man is focused forward on the road, driving casually if anything. 

“What- what’s going on?” He asks, wincing at how his voice is slurring. How much had Quentin drugged him? 

“I thought it was time we found a new place. Our time in Sheffield was nice, but we need some new sights.” He speaks easily, sounding more pleased with himself than anything else. “The whole team is moving, it's all homey.” 

Peter stares at Beck, a quiet kind of horror making his heart clench. 

“Its funny too, seems some of Tony Stark’s little associates were starting to poke around. I thought, it's better if we get away from that.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel, his tone turning into ice. 

Happy, Pepper and Aunt May had gotten the email. They listened to him. Peter blinks back tears, feeling sick. “O-oh.” 

“I thought for a laugh, why not go to York? But, no, that’d be too funny. Your sense of humor is a little lacking, so I can’t waste that on you, Peter.” He continues, his voice still cold, “Better if I surprise you. You’ve certainly surprised me.” 

Peter stares at the back of the man’s head, biting at his bottom lip. Hope just wilts in his chest. If he hadn’t tried to use the computer again… 

“I have a good surprise for you, doll. Not a fun one, but it’ll remind you of your place.” Beck raises a hand, snapping his fingers. “E.D.I.T.H, sweetheart, do me a favor, play footage of my reminder, hmm?” 

Peter doesn’t hear the AI’s response, a drone floating in the car comes into view, as a holographic screen pops up in the air in front of him. 

He recognizes Midtown, what relief he feels at seeing the school fades as windows explode out of the building. A fire bursts to life, rapidly consuming the exterior of the building. People are flooding out of the building in a panic. He recognizes a few faces rushing out of the building, which only makes it so much worse. Smoke plumes darken the air, escaping the broken out windows. The blaze is growing more and more out of control by the minute. People crowd in the football field, huddling together in terror. 

“No!” He screams, trying to thrash where he’s bundled up. He’s too weak to actually move much. The drugs in his system and the exhaustion keep him stuck laid out in the backseat. “No! No! They- they aren’t involved in this!” 

“This is your fault, Peter.” Beck says darkly. “All your fault.” 

“They didn’t do anything!” He argues hotly as tears sting at his eyes, he can’t look away from the footage as it plays out. “This is between _us_!” 

“When you tried to bring in your little helpers, it became _much_ bigger, doll.” The man sneers casually back, “E.D.I.T.H, stop footage.” 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the holographic footage disappears leaving Peter staring straight ahead at nothing. 

“This was all your doing, Peter. If you had just listened, those people wouldn’t have had to die. Think about that on the drive, huh?” 

People died. The realization hits Peter harder than Quentin ever could. High School students not even involved in this mess died because of him. 

Peter chokes on his breath, shaking as he starts to sob. He cries himself hoarse, until his throat is raw and his chest aches. 

Beck just turns up the car radio, ignoring him entirely as he drives through the countryside. 

\---

Peter doesn’t even think to read the road signs by the time they slow into a new town. He just lays back, bonelessly tired as he listens to the radio. His mind keeps replaying the footage of his high school burning. 

It was his fault. 

_His fault._

He’s too tired to even cry. He just drifts between being awake and dozing, just feeling decidedly empty. 

The car pulls to a complete stop, breaking Peter from his thoughts entirely. He blinks blearily, looking towards the front of the car. Beck parks the car in a driveway dotted by lush greenery. What Peter can see, the entire place is surrounded by a forest. Even more so than the last place they were at. 

“We’re home, doll.” Beck states casually, unbuckling himself before he opens up the driver door. He steps out onto a driveway, closing the door sharply behind himself. He walks off and Peter can distantly make out some conversations happening. Before he would’ve tried to listen, now, well now he’s too wrung out to even try. 

Peter doesn’t move to sit up, just staring at the car’s ceiling. He only looks to the passenger door once it opens at his feet. 

“C’mon, might as well get you inside.” Beck unbuckles him, maneuvering to heft Peter into his arms. The seventeen year old doesn’t fight it, just limply laying against Beck’s chest. 

He looks blearily at their surroundings. Another large perfectly suburban house, surrounded by a thick forest. 

Nothing makes him miss New York more than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember kids, quentin beck is a liar. 
> 
> who knows what the truth actually is.


	8. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 'Everything Is Starting To Fall Apart' piece of this fic for Beck.

The sound of arguing startles the teenager awake. He blinks trying to get his bearings as the voices grow louder. He scrubs at his face with a hand, curling into himself under the heavy blankets. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“What’s wrong _with_ me? I’m trying to keep the damn plan on track, Victoria. I don’t know what the fuck is going on in _your_ head.” 

“You could have sold the last place. Done anything but set it on fucking fire!” The woman’s voice carries, and Peter finds himself sitting up slightly. 

“I needed a reason to move overnight, god damn. Why are you picking at my reasoning?” Quentin’s voice is all but agitated, just on the edge of snapping. Peter can’t stop himself from pulling his blankets more tightly over himself. 

“People just move sometimes, Quentin! You don’t need to weave it into Mysterio’s fucking lore!” 

“Can you two stop!?” Another man’s voice cuts in, Peter recognizes the voice as Doug. “We don’t need to be fighting now.” 

“I told you taking Spider-Man, this _kid_ was a bad idea.” Victoria presses on, undeterred. She was always the most outspoken in the crew, and she was clearly angry enough to keep pushing. “He’s distracting you from what we’re supposed to be doing!”

That clearly angers Quentin, he snarls the next words. “I am not distracted. I’m more focused than ever on Mysterio, on making this work. What are you focused on here, Victoria? Picking apart my decisions?” 

Victoria is clearly not done with the argument. Peter can hear her stomping around. “Why are you even obsessed with him? He was just an obstacle before. We were supposed to get him out of the way, not keep him.” 

Just like that, Beck explodes, his voice bounces off of the walls. Peter feels himself lock up in fear, just shrinking away from the sound. “He’s the last little thing Stark had. Stark gave Peter _everything_ because he was just there, his little star pupil because the brat was willing to do whatever Stark asked. I wanted him, I _earned_ this! He’s the last little loophole we closed!” 

“He’s not a closed loophole! He’s a glaring flaw! He’s already tried escaping once! Do you know how much he told Stark’s people!?” Victoria isn’t stopped even at Quentin’s anger, lashing out just as hard verbally. “Did you ever find out, or were you desperate enough to beat him into submission that slipped your mind!?” 

“It doesn’t fucking matter! He’s here! He’s back under control again! He _knows_ where he belongs!” Something hits the wall, Peter jolts slightly in bed, biting down at his bottom lip. He can easily picture Beck throwing something within reach across the room. 

“He can _probably_ hear you.” Willam’s voice is quieter. The argument tapers off at his words. A tense silence follows as doors slam and people move away from the bedroom Peter is in. He can guess they’re moving deeper into the house.

Peter just stares at the bedroom door, moving to sink back under the covers. He can at least pretend he’s asleep until Beck possibly checks the security footage. He stays in bed, even as what was a full argument turns into hushed agitated conversation. 

At best the teenager just lays back in bed, staring at the ceiling as he turns over Beck’s words in his mind. 

Peter hates the creeping feeling of almost wishing he had never met Mr. Stark that rises to the surface. He wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t be Spider-Man, he wouldn’t have died… 

He scrubs at his face, breath shaking as he tries to derail the line of thought.

It’s not fair.

It’s just not fair. 

\---

Finding a new schedule in this new place doesn’t prove very difficult once Peter isn’t groggy from whatever Beck has been putting in his water and food. The teenager is very aware he’s being drugged, but doesn’t have the energy to actually combat it. It reminds him of the early days. Of the drones and the near constant illusions meant to break him. It reminds him of the first few weeks of terror where he was just at Beck’s mercy. Everything was laced with drugs then, all he could do was stumble around in a stupor or lay in a corner as illusions danced around the room he was in. The creeping familiarity of it all leaves a sour taste in his mouth when he’s awake and staring at the ceiling. Being asleep isn’t any better. 

He doesn’t dream often, but when he does he dreams of Midtown High going up in flames. He dreams of gunfire and screaming. He doesn’t startle awake, as much as sluggishly come to with a panicky sound caught in the back of his throat. 

Time is nebulous, but Peter at least tracks time with the way his ankle feels. He bases time just as much on Beck’s own spotty schedule. He spends most of his time in bed, just healing, just listening to Beck putter around the house and meetings that take place. He knows what time things are roughly from when Beck rises in the morning and meals that come in. 

He’ll be able to actually do more once his ankle fully heals. His healing factor definitely helps, as does all the rest he’s unwillingly getting. What should heal in four weeks heals within three. His body is trying to cover everything else at once, which makes it feel so much slower. 

Once he’s back on his feet with relative ease, Quentin is demanding he care for himself. 

Peter is more than happy to take care of himself. He doesn’t want to stay close to Quentin. He doesn’t even want to deal with Beck. He does his best to just avoid making eye contact with the man. Avoid even talking to him if he can manage it. He keeps things short and simple. He has questions, he wonders where the hero team Beck put together are, but asking is not worth the effort. 

He doesn’t want to somehow ruin his chances of Meggan doing something. 

Peter focuses on getting his ankle back in proper working order, primarily pouring time in stretching, and pacing circles around common areas. He is doing as much as he can given his pregnancy and confinement. 

The house is about the same in some regards. The front is a show piece for guests, speaking of opulence and decadence Peter never knew before he was kidnapped. The back part of the house is just as locked down as before. This time, the walls aren’t as thick. Peter speculates it's due to Beck moving them so suddenly. He couldn’t get a place to his exact specifications. Peter tests a wall once or twice, realizing with his powers he could put a dent in it. Now, not so much. To make up for it, all the windows are reinforced. The back windows of the house are heavily barred over glass that is apparently bullet proof. If he’s to believe Beck anyway. 

The layouts differ to some extent. The kitchen and living room share open space now. Towards the back of the kitchen are sliding glass doors that lead out into a backyard. The doors have similar code boxes placed on them to keep Peter from just walking outside without permission. Their front and backyard are heavily fenced off. The wrought iron is new, barely touched by the weather of the countryside. When Peter peers outside, he can see patio furniture in well trimmed grass. 

Beck’s office and bedroom are combined now, the door is locked at all times when Beck isn’t in there. Peter doesn’t test the limits on that room. There is one door that is locked, and Peter doesn’t even try after the first attempt. Then of course his own room. 

Anything that is his, that he earned is set out in the living room area around the television and a ring of furniture. A chalkboard is tucked out of sight by the back door leading into the yard. 

He has the time to memorize almost everything as he paces around. There isn’t much else he can do. 

\--

“No.” The man says with a wave of his hand, the gesture dismissive as he turns his attention away from Peter. He toys with a pen between his fingers, scratching something out on the notebook in his grasp. 

“But-” Peter starts, trying to bite back the frustration that wants to bubble up and out of him. He can’t believe he’s even having this conversation with Quentin Beck. He can’t believe he’s even indulging any of this. He isn’t happily planning a family with someone he loves, he’s stuck here with Beck. “Can Ben at least be a middle name?” 

“Maybe.” Beck offers back without looking away from his notes. “Ben’s a little too old fashioned for a first name.” He keeps writing out something, as far as Peter can read from his spot near the man on the couch, it's more planning for the next attack.

“It- it was my Uncle’s name, I just…” Tries, already regretting giving Beck more emotional ammo. “I just wanted to…” He can’t even finish his thought, half afraid to push the issue. Beck is in a good mood, but that can flip. 

Quentin has been flipping moods more readily recently. Peter has been trying to stay out of the way. What stability Beck remotely had before has been slipping. The man has been nothing but temper fits on and off. 

Beck sighs, a put upon sound as he looks at the teenager. “That’s nice, but, why honor the dead with _my_ son?” 

Peter bites back an argument of it being his child _too_. He doesn’t want to name a son Quentin Jr, he doesn’t even want to do any of this. He clicks his teeth together, just swallowing down everything that wants to rise to the surface. 

His silence earns a curious kind of stare from the older man. Quentin clicks his pen idly, “If anything, maybe a second middle name. We’ll see.” 

Peter blinks at that, “O-oh.” He hates how thankful he is for just that much. Quentin barely gave him an inch, and he's clinging to it. “Thanks.”

He’s not sure if he likes Beck being nice. 

\--

Peter opens and closes his mouth, openly baffled. He takes a few tentative steps forward, his gaze drifting across the room. One wall has been painted a dark blue, the others are an off eggshell white. A large window with grey curtains lights the room up nearly completely without the lamps tucked in the corners of the room. He had only ever seen the door to this room closed, natural curiosity had pulled him towards it when he couldn’t find Beck. 

“I… when did you get all of this?” 

Beck smirks back at him, rising from a crouch near some furniture he’s putting together. “Sometime when you were bedridden. Figured I’d get this started.” He waves a hand dismissively back at the furniture already set up. A changing table, and a crib. Both are in a dark grey wash with white accents. A plush rocking chair is tucked next to the crib. 

“It’s… nice.” Peter manages hesitantly. He’s half afraid to even get into any kind of conversation with Beck at this point. Anything he says could start some kind of fight. Not talking to the man isn’t much of an option either.

“My son deserves the best.” Quentin muses easily, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “Might as well get started early. I mean, you’re already showing a hell of a lot, doll.” 

Peter awkwardly crosses his arms over himself, “I- yeah. I guess I am.” 

“I must have done a number on you.” Quentin seems pleased with the statement. Peter just feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. He bites the urge to ask why the man would even say that. 

The seventeen year old grimaces at that, wondering if that’s even a normal thing to say about babies. “I- I’m just kind of skinny?” 

Beck snorts, “Not for long.” He turns his attention from Peter back to the cabinet he was building. He circles the project before picking up the manual from the floor. He skims the manual with a hum. Peter takes that as a sign to come a little further into the room. His gaze drifts once again, trying to take in anything he missed. 

He stops next to the crib, picking up one of the stuffed animals from the crib. He smiles at the soft cat plush, gingerly hugging it to his chest. Quentin looks up, chuckling at the sight before his attention focuses on the manual. Peter runs his fingers along the plush’s fur for a moment before setting it back where he found it. 

“What… what changed your mind about the nursery-?” Peter questions hesitantly, “It was going to be in my room before.” Before they moved, before Beck apparently set the building on fire.

“I thought it’d be better if I didn’t leave you completely in control of the baby.” Quentin says simply back as he stretches. “Wouldn’t want you to put any ideas in the baby’s head, or do anything _drastic_.” He places the manual on the changing table nearby. 

The implication makes Peter’s stomach lurch. His gaze snaps back to Beck as the man smiles at him in a condescending manner. “I- I wouldn’t-” Beck doesn’t even let him finish. 

“You don’t think that clearly, Pete. It's understandable. You’ve been traumatized from playing hero. So you’re making some big mistakes. Don’t know what’s good for you.”

Peter clicks his teeth together, stunned silent. His silence is enough for the older man to push onwards. “I’m here to lead you the right way, doll. Someone needs to. You need a guiding hand.” His smile turns sharp as he tilts his head. Beck’s gaze is dark, calculating. Even without his spider sense, Peter’s mind is warning him to back off. He takes a hesitant step back, trying to resist the urge to hunch into himself. 

“You were so desperate for someone to lead you by the nose before. Can’t just let you go on your own, not when you’re such a fuck up. Even Stark saw that, so he had to keep coddling you, give you all these little gadgets and fancy suits because what are you without him? Raw strength and unchecked teenage hormones.” He laughs quietly, like it is the funniest thing on the planet. 

Peter stumbles back, feeling like he’s been struck. “That- no! I-” 

“Why don’t you go sit down? I’m busy here.” Just as quickly the mirth is gone, and Beck dismisses him with a gesture. “Focus on what you are now, think that’ll be better for you.” 

Peter doesn’t fight him, taking the out to get out of the room. He heads back into his own bedroom for some semblance of safety. 

The rest of the week, Beck pours time into finishing the nursery. The dresser is finished, and a few more chairs are hustled into the room itself. Quentin casually asks Peter for his opinions on certain parts of the nursery. 

Peter tries not to be too weirded out when Quentin actually listens to him once or twice. The man places some of Peter’s origami on the walls, unaware of why the seventeen year old even made any of those crafts.

He wonders just how Meggan is doing, what Brian thinks of the notes. Would they show the notes to anyone else?

He’s trying to not get his hopes up. Not again. 

\--

Peter curls under a blanket on the couch, trying to read as he hears Beck moving around in his office. The sound of a phone going off startles the seventeen year old from where he is in the book. He peers in the direction of the office as Beck steps out, a cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. 

“Ah, Brian! Been too long since we’ve talked.” Peter recognizes the tone. He recognizes it from Venice, from Prague. All charm and easy friendliness that brings your guard down. “How have things been going with the team?” 

Peter tries to strain to hear what is being said on the other side of the call, biting his bottom lip anxiously. He makes out a word or two, but nothing concrete enough to know what exactly is being said. 

“Oh, you know. Things are about the same. Peter is doing better, we saw the doctor, the baby is doing fine.” The lie is smooth enough. “Still no luck catching those copycats?” 

Peter’s brows pinch together at that, his finally looks up at Beck as the man passes by him towards the kitchen. Beck talks quickly, going over some kind of plan. 

Far as Peter can keep up with, the plan almost seems nonsensical. It takes the teenager a second to realize it sounds stupid because its likely tied back to some kind of illusion. The seventeen year old wonders just what Beck and his team put together if it doesn’t somehow involve Beck himself saving the day. 

There is a lull in conversation on Beck’s side. Peter lets his gaze drop back to the book in his hand, trying to at least pretend he’s reading opposed to listening. 

“Oh, you want to talk to Peter?” Beck’s tone alone makes Peter’s stomach flip in panic. His gaze snaps upwards as Beck stares at him. 

He closes his book nervously, resting it in his lap. “Let me see if he’s up, you know, complications with the pregnancy and all.” The older man offers casually as he can, placing the phone aside after muting it. 

“You’re going to behave.” He warns Peter lowly, striding forward as he glowers at the teenager. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it.’ 

Peter nods numbly, “Y-yes.” 

“Far as they know, you’re on bed rest. You’ve been having complications, you’re tired and can’t talk long.” He informs Peter quickly, all the teenager can do again is nod. 

Quentin stares at Peter for a moment longer before unmuting the call, his tone cheery once again. “I’m about to hand the phone over. He might be a little groggy, so fair warning!” With that, he passes the cellphone to the seventeen year old. 

“Peter?” Brian’s voice is a relief to hear after so long. The genuine concern in his voice is almost jarring. “How are you feeling?” 

“Um.” Peter stumbles a little, shrinking under Beck’s gaze. “Sore, tired. Sorry, I know you must be busy…” 

“Hey now, it's more than fine. Meggan and I have been worrying about you.” The man offers back, his tone is gentle and reassuring. “Do you two know the gender of the baby yet?” 

“Quentin thinks its a boy.” Peter offers quietly back, “I’m not sure.” With the topic shifting slightly Beck’s attention drifts only vaguely. The man eyes Peter before moving to grab his notebook off from the kitchen counter. He starts to scribble down notes. 

“Peter? Do you need help?” 

The question makes Peter’s stomach twist. He tries to keep his tone normal. “Yes.” He answers, “I am excited about the baby.” He wonders if Beck is recording this with E.D.I.T.H. 

“Alright. Are you being held there?” Brian asks cautiously, weighing his words carefully from the sounds of it. 

“Yes, I am excited to hold my baby. I can’t wait.” Peter says overly cheerily, knowing if he sounds excited, Beck won’t think too much. He hopes Brian understands, he hopes Brian takes him seriously. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“No. I don’t know.” He toys with the edge of the paperback’s cover in his lap. “Maybe the baby will get Quentin’s eyes? I think a lot about how our baby is going to look.” 

Beck sighs in the background, stepping over and snapping his fingers. “Wrap it up.” He hisses at the teenager. 

“I have to go now, I should probably rest a little more.” Peter offers back, “I’m going to hand the phone back over to Quen.” 

“We’ll see you soon, Peter.” Brian promises firmly. 

Peter believes him.


	9. Only remnants of you is that awful bitter taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A question for you folks following the fic: 
> 
> Would you prefer longer updates? Be it with the price of a longer wait time between chapters? Or are you happy with how things are now? Leave a comment if you want to weigh in. 
> 
> Either way, please enjoy the current chapter.

“You’ve been a pain, but you’ve been good enough.” The man drawls casually as he presses a tablet into Peter’s hands. “Figured you needed a little more mental stimulation.” 

Peter blinks a little in confusion as he accepts the tablet without a word. He turns it over in his hands just taking in the knock off Starkpad. The red coloration makes his mind drift to Tony almost immediately in a way that makes his heart hurt. 

Peter glances back up at Quentin. He doesn’t want to get up from the couch, even if it means Quentin’s looming over him. He’s already tired six months into the pregnancy and feels like he’ll only get more tired as time passes. He’s showing more than he should be at this point, which just makes him feel more anxious. Is he supposed to show this much? Is this normal? It’s not like he can ask anyone. 

“It’s password locked, right?” He questions as he frowns up at the man. 

“Yes, made sure it was simple enough for you, doll face.” Quentin’s lips quirk into a smirk as he rests a hand against his hip. “Just type in spiderman. No spaces, all lower case.” 

Peter’s grip tightens on the edges of the tablet, teeth clicking together as he stared up at the man. “...Okay.” Is as much as he can manage without exploding at Quentin. He’s not an idiot, he’s not even a child anymore at this point. He has lost all of that a long time ago. 

“If you ever forget it, don’t hesitate to ask.” Beck taps a finger against the tip of Peter’s nose. The seventeen year old sucked in a short unhappy breath, but held his tongue as the man stalks off. The click of the door leading into the rest of the house is enough of a sign Peter is alone in the back. Peter just sits there with the tablet in his grasp until he hears the car start up and drive off. Once the sound is distant enough he looks down at the tablet again. He waits even longer, too paranoid Beck is somehow using an illusion again. 

The seventeen year old unlocks the tablet, and immediately starts digging for the settings. It’s a hope beyond hope, but he wants to believe Quentin forgot to set up all the parental controls. He wants to believe there is some chance of getting something by the older man. 

He realizes quickly enough he can’t actually access the settings for the tablet, not without a password. A password Peter is pretty sure _isn’t_ spiderman in all lowercase. 

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath before backing off, just staring at the main screen of the tablet uncertainly. He hesitates before opening up the internet browser app. Google loads automatically, which makes his life marginally easier, he types in ‘Avengers’ in the search bar, only for the next screen to be a blank white screen. He tries again with the same results. He tries ‘Excalibur’ and when he navigates to information about the super hero team, he gets a blank white page. 

He frowns, going back and typing in ‘cat’ quickly and searching. Results come back instantly, an endless sea of cat pictures and links about cats. 

Quentin has intense parental locks on the tablet and Peter couldn’t get into the system itself to change that. 

He pauses, thinking for a long moment before typing in ‘Peter Parker New York’. He’s more than a little relieved to see the results load. He’s going to have to look for any information indirectly. He’s about to go back when he notices the first link is an obituary. It’s an obituary from last year. 

“...There are a lot of Peter Parkers in the world.” He mutters softly to himself, hesitating as he stares down at the link. “It’s, just weird timing.” 

He stares down at the link a little longer before curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks it. He expects a picture of an older man to load up. He expects to laugh it off and keep going. 

Seeing a picture of himself looking back just knocks the air out of the seventeen year old. He recognizes the picture from class picture day last year. Peter remembers Harley standing off camera making faces at him to make him laugh. He remembers Ned cracking up in the background at both of them. It’s why his smile is so wide and bright opposed to the usual stiff awkwardness that came from these kinds of pictures. It’s a better picture than the one on his passport. 

The obituary was clearly written by May. Peter can tell from the phrasing alone. No one else writes like she does. She quotes Uncle Ben twice and it feels like he’s been punched. 

Peter just sinks a little back against the couch, staring at the words until he just can’t read them anymore. He closes the window after a moment just letting the tablet fall into his lap.

He wipes at his eyes with a weak laugh, “Oh, I… I guess I do have a few tears left.” He spends time crying into one of the couch throw pillows, before eventually winding himself back down. He blames pregnancy hormones if anything. 

If he gets this tablet again, he wants to be sure he doesn’t leave a trail. He can’t make the same mistake twice. He’s not even sure if he can handle a beating in the same capacity as before. 

He logs off hurriedly, trying to clear his history. He repeatedly clears it before moving onto just playing random youtube videos through the youtube app on the tablet. He looks up cats again, to just scroll through pictures of kittens rather mindlessly. He takes time to actually google some of the questions about pregnancy he has. It’s added cover for what else he was doing. Quentin comes home, takes the tablet out of Peter’s hands without a word and goes through the history. 

“All you did was watch youtube?” He questions a little dryly as he looks away from the tablet. “And look up cats and pregnancy questions?” 

Peter nods slowly, he manages to look sheepish. “I wasn’t sure what else to do?” Playing dumb wouldn’t hurt his case here. Not if he wants Beck to not pick through settings all that deeply. Would the parental controls keep a record of what he had done? 

“God, kid.” He blows out in disapproval. “Pregnancy hormones sure addling your brain, huh?” He turns off the tablet without checking any further. 

He takes the tablet away entirely tucking it into his bedroom and office. Peter isn’t sure where it is stored, but he can guess it's locked down. He isn't about to go searching for it. 

\--

“Get dressed.” Beck barks out at him, startling the teenager out of a doze immediately. Peter fumbles to sit up in bed, heart stuck in his throat as he looks over at the man lingering by the bedroom doorway. Peter rubs at his eyes as he tries to get himself together in some capacity. 

“I- okay.” He slides out of bed, stumbling unsteadily. His center of gravity has changed the longer the pregnancy has gone on. His clothes are starting to get tighter on him, and Peter isn’t looking forward to trying to earn new clothes. He already is struggling with any pants that aren’t just sweatpants at this point. 

“Something nice, suburban, we’re going to the doctors. We’re more than overdue to do something about.” He waves at Peter’s body, “This.” 

Peter blinks, shifting his attention to head to his dresser and grab something out of it. “Are we going to find out the gender…?” 

“We know it's a boy, doll.” Beck says dismissively, “We just need to be sure the baby hasn’t been stressed from _your_ stress.” 

Peter bites back a comment that his stress came from Beck specifically. Outwardly he just nods, dropping one of his baggier sweaters on the bed. He finds some sweat pants to throw onto the bed. 

Beck sighs, irritation clear in his voice. “I said _nice_.” 

Peter flinches at the irritation, peering at the man anxiously. “I can’t- I can’t really fit into the slacks comfortably.” He admits reluctantly. He has been trying to avoid the topic. 

“Are you trying to make this trip a shopping trip too-?” The man questions a little sharply. Peter shakes his head quickly, raising his hands palm up to placate the older man. He backs off slightly, half afraid of making this worse. 

“No, no- I just, I- I just wanted you to know.” He stammers out, “I grabbed the nice sweatpants.” Apparently that is the wrong thing to say given the way Beck goes stiff where he stands. The man grits his teeth in another flash of irritation. With how quickly Beck has been oscillating between moods so rapidly, Peter isn’t sure how badly this _could_ go. 

“Sweatpants aren’t nice no matter how you dress them up, Peter.” He bites out, stepping forward into the bedroom. “Are you trying to embarrass me?” 

“ _No_!” He shrinks back, wishing he could climb up a wall to put some space between himself and Beck. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry-” He chokes out weakly. He winds a protective hand against his stomach, half afraid of what pushing anything could do. 

He hates how afraid he is of Quentin Beck. He hates how he doesn’t feel like Spider-Man anymore. He doesn’t even feel like Peter sometimes. 

He hates every part of Quentin Beck. 

The man stays where he’s standing, just silent for a moment. “Put the damn sweatpants on and get ready.” Peter grimaces, but nods, just swallowing back the growing fear. 

Quentin’s shoes thump loudly on the way out of the bedroom, and Peter has to take a moment to calm down. It feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest. Fear swirls into anger before it burns out as Peter gulps in another deep breath. 

Once he’s calmed down, he slides out of his pajamas into clothing. He tries to anchor himself with the promise of Brian and Meggan coming to find him. He tries to hope. He tries to at least hope it was real. He isn't sure how he's going to even go on if it was just another illusion, another trick. 

\--

The office air feels far stuffier than Peter expects it to. He finds himself hunched into himself in a chair, trying to avoid eye contact with the other very pregnant people in the office. Women and men in equal measure. One couple seemingly brought their toddler who was babbling up a storm whilst playing with blocks in the far corner of the waiting room. The beige walls are covered in pictures of overly happy pregnant people, and certifications for the doctors present. 

It feels too normal. Peter wants to burst the bubble of contentedness, to scream he’s being held hostage, that this is all wrong. He wants to just leap out of his chair and take off into town. 

But he can’t, the words are caught in his throat. He just ends up looking at Quentin, who seems to be reading something on his phone. The older man arches a brow back at him with some amusement. 

“Nervous?” 

“No, no-” Peter swallows, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Just, thinking.” 

There is a sarcastic barb all but prepared from Beck’s expression alone before the man remembers they’re in public. He smooths it out almost immediately into a doting smile, reaching a hand up to stroke his thumb across Peter’s cheek. 

“Payton, honey, try to relax. You always worry too much.” 

Peter gives a weak laugh at that, nodding almost robotically. “Y-yeah.” He tries to not outright go stiff as he’s pulled into Beck in a loose embrace. The uncomfortable waiting room chair is the only saving grace from Beck trying to make the hug anything stronger. 

The hug blessedly ends after Beck presses a kiss against the top of his head. Peter forces a smile at that, just happy to settle back properly in his seat. He keeps his gaze away from Beck after that, just watching people be called back, and leave. 

He fumbles to pick up a magazine, brushing his fingers along its smooth cover as he flips it open. He skims a few articles, not really reading much of anything. 

“Mr. Beck? Peter Beck?” A woman’s voice breaks Peter’s reprieve. His gaze drifts upwards to see a nurse. He manages a smile, putting the magazine aside as he awkwardly gets to his feet. “Um, coming!” He calls out weakly, earning some chuckles from others present. Beck reaches out to help him counter balance. Peter has to resist the urge to swat the man’s hands aside. He wants to snarl at the man to not touch him. 

“I’ll wait here, doll. Tell me how it goes.” Peter blinks, but nods, looking back at Quentin. He’s half surprised the man isn’t insisting to come in. He has to wonder why. 

Beck opens his jacket, revealing a small remote control tucked in the inner pocket. He arches a brow back, motioning at it subtly as he acts like he’s trying to find something. The seventeen year old blanches just slightly, nodding as he snaps his attention forward to the nurse leading him out of the waiting room. 

“Come this way Mr. Beck.” The woman offers with an easy smile, guiding him into the back of the office to an exam room. He settles down a little awkwardly in a stiff plastic chair, resting a hand anxiously over his belly. 

His gaze drifts across the room, finding a brief flash of comfort in the fact every doctor’s office was the same. Pale painted walls, an exam table, two loose chairs, a desk in the corner under some cabinets of supplies with a computer settled there. 

The nurse closed the door behind them, smiling at him as she moved to sit down at a desk across from his seat, tapping at a keyboard to pull up some digital charts. Peter can kind of see them from where he’s seated. 

“Have you been to any doctor’s recently?” 

Peter shakes his head, “We’ve just… moved here. So we’re not quite sure where to start.” 

“Not even prenatal visits?” The woman’s brows pinch together as she types. 

“That wasn’t… really common back home. My husband and I never even thought about it.” He offers, like he’s admitting something embarrassing. Mostly Beck hadn’t wanted to bother with carting Peter around. 

“I see.” The woman frowns a little, but the expression doesn’t last long. If anything the woman is professional. She rattles off some other questions, all which make Peter feel woefully unprepared. She goes over basics as much as she does things focused more around babies. Peter can manage the basics, but the baby stuff is… out of his league entirely. 

Do pregnant people really do this much research to have a baby? He at best just started kind of googling when he felt uncomfortable or weird. Did his parents do this much research when they had him? He wishes he could ask them. He wishes he could ask anyone in his family right now. 

“Was this a surprise for you and your spouse?” The woman asks, fairly kind given how awkward he is. She has to be wondering if Peter had even thought about a baby before deciding to have one. 

Peter laughs a little weakly back, “Oh, yeah, we- we didn’t think it would happen. I’ve been so sickly, and…” He waves awkwardly and shrugs. He rattles off the fake weaknesses Quentin trained him to memorize. The nurse hums and nods, making notes. 

Peter feels like an idiot the entire time, but if he doesn’t do this, Quentin will be angry. He has a feeling the man is going to request as much paperwork as he can to monitor what was said. 

A few other catch up appointments are set up. The nurse helpfully writes it out on a slip of paper for Peter. He smiles wanly and thanks her for her time. She leads him back out into the waiting room. Quentin rises from his seat at the sight of Peter, wearing a smile that looks genuine to anyone who doesn’t know him. 

He manages a wane smile for Beck. He manages to keep the smile in place as an arm drapes over his shoulders and Quentin leads him out of the office. 

The fresh air of the parking lot is a relief, if only for a moment as Quentin pushes him along towards the parked car. Beck unlocks the car, shuttling Peter into the passenger seat before stepping around to get into the driver side. 

“Now, how about you tell me about the appointment, Pete?” He questions as he settles into his own seat, locking the car without hesitation. Peter gives the best summary he can, fumbling with the seat belt. He does his best to recount it as accurately as possible. 

\--

He gets the tablet on and off, mostly because Beck has loaded up digital copies of the books Peter has in his miniscule collection onto it. The man complains about clutter, and threatens to junk books that Peter doesn’t read often enough. Peter has to bite back an irritated comment that he only owns five books at the moment, there isn’t much to throw away. 

Seeing a digital copy of Good Omen’s makes his heart skitter across his ribs nervously, but he doesn’t comment. 

He makes sure he doesn’t even touch the internet beyond looking up pregnancy questions as long as Beck is around. He can guess the older man is testing the waters to see what Peter will do. 

Peter doesn’t take the bait.

“Are you really that damn worried about pregnancy?” Beck bemoans the next time he skims over Peter’s internet history. “Christ, we went to a doctor.” 

“I like to be sure.” Peter murmurs awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “We still have the other visits too. So… I want to be prepared.” 

“God, don’t turn into even more of a damn worry wart.” The man snipes with irritation, stalking off with the tablet tucked under his arm. 

\--

Peter hates earning maternity clothing, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t need them anymore. All his sweat pants begin to feel too tight around the stomach and hips, which means he’s out of luck in making them work. He keeps just getting _bigger_. 

“You’re lucky you’re still cute like this.” Beck muses idly, squeezing his hips hard enough Peter winces. He pushes Peter more tightly into the mattress, keeping the teenager from really going anywhere. Peter just endures whilst trying to picture anything else. 

By the next day, Peter has some new men’s maternity clothing. None of them are his style, but they’re roomy enough he’s actually comfortable. He finds some bitter irony in the fact Beck keeps dressing him in greens and purples

All Peter wants to do is remind the man he isn’t Beck, he doesn’t want to wear his colors. He doesn't have much of a choice at the moment, so he'll deal with it.

Peter hates having to wait, but he has to be careful, for himself, for this baby. He has to wait. He has to be patient.

\--

The next time he gets the tablet, he waits at least two hours after Beck leaves to look up Peter Parker again. He’s being as cautious as he can be, just hoping there aren’t any drones nearby. 

He gives a strangled kind of laugh when he scrolls through the search results and finds Flash’s channel come up. Somehow his name got associated with Flash’s channel. He mostly tunes Flash himself out, keeping an eye on the background, feeling a little elated whenever he catches sight of Ned, Harley or MJ in some capacity. He finds himself laughing weakly when MJ jostles Flash aside during a live stream with a scathing, “Move it.” Harley laughs in the background. Ned shakes his head wordlessly at the interaction.

It is all proof Quentin hasn’t pulled the proverbial trigger yet. That much is a relief. Peter just hugs the tablet against his chest. He exhales slowly as he pulls the tablet back down, going back and typing in instagram in the search bar. The website loads up within a moment or so, and Peter feels smug when he sees the fact it isn’t blocked. Quentin hadn’t thought deeply about social media apparently. Even if instagram loads terribly on the tablet. 

He tries to find Harley’s instagram, only to realize it’s been deleted or privated enough he can’t find it on a basic search. He opens a new tab and sees his neglected facebook is about the same. 

It takes Peter a second to remember his log-in. He discovered Harley’s account is just gone, the feeling leaves Peter at a loss of what to do. He goes through his last few messages. Unsurprisingly MJ, Ned and what was Harley’s accounts sit at the top. The last message he sent Ned was a stupid meme. He chokes on a wet kind of laugh, wishing he could still be doing that. 

He hesitates before sending Ned a message. 

_Tell Pepper Potts, May or Happy to look up Captain Britain, to call him and ask about Peter. I’m alive. I’m sorry about all of this Ned. I never wanted any of this. You’re still my best friend and always will be. I hope you and Harley finally figured stuff out. I know he likes you, Ned and you like him._

He stares at the message, chewing at his bottom lip before switching to send a message to MJ. 

_Tell Pepper Potts, May or Happy to look up Captain Britain, to call him and ask about Peter. I’m alive. You were right by the way, I am Spider-Man. You were always super observant, MJ. I’m sorry. I always liked you. A lot, but I never had the chance to tell you. I wish I could have told you before all of this. I really like like you._

He stares at the message for a long moment, before hurriedly logging off. He clears the tablet’s history, trying to calm back down as he goes back to his ‘usual’ browsing habits for the tablet. He changes some of it up by looking up baby toys and meanings of baby names. All things he know Beck will glaze over. 

When Beck comes home, the man barely looks over the history, rolling his eyes in extreme irritation. “We have an appointment next week, relax.” He powers down the device.


	10. You're not looking closely like you should

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to do this chapter for faaarrr too long.
> 
> Mild warning for homophobic language within.

He twists under the covers, grimacing slightly at the strange fluttering feeling coming from his belly. By now, he at least knows what it is. The baby is kicking. The first few times this happened scared him senseless. Beck had laughed at him the first time Peter tried to explain what it was. There was no shared moment of wonder at their child kicking, just Beck mocking Peter for not knowing. 

The baby is feeling very intent on kicking a hole through him apparently if the continuing strength of the kicks are anything to go by. Peter grunts in discomfort, curling under his blankets as he runs a hand awkwardly along his belly to try and ease the baby. 

The urge to talk to the baby rises to the surface. Peter just stares at the wall furthest from the bed, wondering if he was being weird. Did people talk to babies when they were pregnant?

Then again, most people were excited to have a baby. He hadn’t felt much but… discomfort at the entire thought. The baby was just another piece of Beck. Another thing that kept him under the older man’s control. What was he supposed to be feeling right now? 

Should he actually love his baby? Was he _ever_ going to? 

“We’re gonna see just what you look like soon.” He promises gently back, “Just let me get some sleep.” 

The kick that follows earns a weak laugh from the teenager. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, you- had to, come here like this.” He continues stroking his fingers along the swell of his stomach, trying to remember what he read online to help with this. 

He isn’t sure what else to even say. What can he say to someone who he didn’t want in the first place. He almost apologizes to the baby for its existence, but, would that be wrong? 

If he had the chance, he would’ve happily gotten an abortion. Anything to avoid someone else being pulled into Beck’s circle of control. Anything to not give the man another way to control him. He wasn’t ready for a baby, much less like _this_. He just wanted to finish high school, go to college, help people as Spider-Man. 

Instead he’s just stuck here, firmly under Quentin Beck’s thumb. His friends and family are in danger if he acts out. Now this baby is in just as much danger. 

He just strokes his belly until the kicking eventually eases. He wipes at his eyes with the butt of his palm, just trying to relax back to sleep. 

It takes him an hour or two to actually fall back asleep. He hates all of this waiting, all of this uncertainty of whether reaching out has actually done anything. 

\--

Beck shuffles him out onto the back porch with little warning. One moment Peter is lingering near the kitchen island picking at some fruit and the next Beck is pushing him towards the sliding glass doors. The man punches in the numbers on the keypad that keeps the door locked down. One the pad beeps, Quentin slides the doors open and pushes Peter out onto the wooden deck. 

Peter stumbles unsteadily, trying to avoid falling over as he twists to look back at the older man. Quentin narrows his eyes, pointing at the teenager. “Wait here.” 

Peter bites the inside of his check, forcing himself to nod. 

“Don’t try anything, Peter.” Beck warns before he walks back inside, locking Peter outside. 

The seventeen year old just opens and closes his mouth awkwardly, staring at the sliding glass doors for a moment before turning his gaze back to the rest of the yard. He hadn’t even really had the chance to do much of anything out here. 

He paces back and forth along the porch, keeping a hand anchored to his belly to feel even vaguely balanced. Peter isn’t sure why he’s out here, but he’s going to enjoy the fresh air while he can. 

“Yes, I got him outside. We have some privacy.” 

Peter goes still at the sound of Beck’s voice, turning again before realizing the kitchen window overlooking the backyard was open. He eyes the window, but keeps pacing, trying to pretend he isn’t listening. 

“I know we can fix this.” There is a pause, and long irritated sigh from Quentin. “Who the fuck knew Captain Britian would collapse in on himself over his wife getting hurt?” 

Peter nearly trips over his own feet at that, he sucks in a short panicky breath, clinging to the side of the house. Meggan was hurt? How? How badly? His mind is spinning on horrible possibilities. 

“You’d think these idiots would know it comes with the territory.” Beck sounds annoyed at best. “We didn’t kill her, so, he’ll recover. God, it just pushes our whole time table back.” 

Peter forces himself to stumble towards some patio furniture on the porch, picking up a book awkwardly from a side table nearby, pretending to read. 

“The whole doppelganger storyline was forced, I know that. I just wanted to get them off my ass for a while. Brian was picking at my plans a little too much. Guess he saw some of Fury’s old files on Mysterio. Fucking bastard said I wasn’t completely trustworthy.” The older man gives a disgusted scoff, stomping around. 

Peter just stares at the text in front of him, flipping the page. 

“I thought Brian was going to be a fucking meathead like Patriotic Pants back in the states, but apparently he has some education under his belt.” Something is slammed on a table inside, and Peter flinches without meaning to. He’s out of sight from the glass doors, but he doesn’t want to make it obvious he’s listening. He stares more intently at the book in his grasp. 

“We’ll hire someone with a couple degrees on our team, someone who deals with multiple universes in some capacity, maybe someone who wrote a couple papers on magic. We’re all engineers here, programmers, artists, creatives, we need another scientist or two on task.” There is a pause as Beck listens to whoever is on the other side. 

Peter can’t wholly make it out, but he can guess it's a group call. He flips another page, just waiting. 

“For now, the evil doppelgangers from the other universe are defeated. Get William on designing a death scene dramatic enough to take out a few smaller buildings. They aren’t elementals, but we want the pop here. Guterman, for the love of god, work your magic here, I don’t have the energy to deal with this.” 

Beck scoffs in irritation, “Yes, I’m still committed to this, look how far we’ve gone already. I’m just dealing with hormone central right now.” Peter rolls his eyes at that, wondering how exactly _he’s_ bothering Quentin Beck. Peter has been trying to keep himself as small as possible and stay out of the way. It’s hard to do given they share space. 

“He’s going to pop out the world’s biggest baby, so he’s waddling around like a sad fat bird. I’ve been building the nursery. Janice I sent you pictures, but, that isn’t the point. We need to close this story now. Get it settled enough Brian feels like he’s accomplished something, so he’ll focus on his wife and stop asking us questions. She’ll be out of commission long enough to keep her out of any interviews going on. Probably good to rotate the team roster, keep things fresh.” 

Peter is on the edge of demanding aloud ‘what happened? How badly is Meggan hurt’, but bites down hard on his bottom lip to steady himself. He forces himself to flip another page. He needs to stay calm. 

“Yeah, the blue furry kid, Wagner, we’ll roll him or that Pryde kid in. They’re fresh faced enough to cover the fact we’re down a member, well two members now.” Beck pauses for a long moment before he releases a short choppy laugh, sounding annoyed. “Christ, I still can’t believe Brian called me blubbering like a fucking baby.” 

Peter’s breath stutters in his chest as his grip tightens on the book in his hands. All the words just blur together into a meaningless mush of letters. Disgust and rage pool together under Peter’s ribs at the callousness of Beck’s words. These people trust Quentin Beck, they trust Mysterio and… to him they are all a joke. All those people are a means to an end. How long before Beck turns on his own people? 

“I had to improv, god, it was awful. He was crying enough he didn’t even notice how lackluster it was. I recorded it, so, we’re covered if we need audio for anything.” 

The teenager just stares blankly ahead, over the book into the yard. Peter isn’t able to really focus on the rest of the conversation, just feeling scared and angry all at once. 

Mysterio needs to be stopped. He’s known this for a year, almost two years at this point. All the deaths, all the hurt, all the people he’s trampled over… 

Peter swallows back tears, just taking slow breaths. His eyes burn, but he grits his teeth against it. 

It's his fault, his responsibility. 

He needs to do something. Even if no one else can. 

\--

The next two doctor’s visits go smoothly enough, one focuses on fairly basic testing. Urine and blood tests to check on Peter as much as the baby. Peter tries his best to be calm, answer questions and pretend he isn’t intensely uncomfortable with the whole thing. The doctors are scrambling to catch up on his health given he has no real records as Peter Payton Beck. He’s non-existent in their records, so they are trying to cover the holes in his medical history. 

If he wasn’t this pregnant, he’s fairly sure he never would have any records. Beck is smooth and charming, able to talk the doctors out of asking _too_ many questions. He explains as seriously as he can he’s from another dimension, he shows off some of his ‘magic’ with a quirk of his brow and playful wink. Peter can guess sneaking the drones into the building wasn’t easy, but the team managed it somehow. 

Peter is on the edge of dry heaving from the display alone. Given how Mysterio has been all over the news, the doctors believe it in a heartbeat. Some even _thank_ Quentin for his efforts. Beck all but glows under praise, and promises to have paperwork sorted out next time they visit. Given the Snap threw everything into disarray, Peter isn’t surprised the doctors are decidedly more lenient about everything. 

He actually has some of the paperwork put together when they come in for a sonogram. The man wants some sense of legitimacy, enough so to forge things with his team. Peter just wants to scream at him. Peter wishes he was less pregnant so he could do _something_. His disgust and anger at Quentin Beck grow every day. 

The pair of them are greeted by name and lead back to an exam room together. Beck’s hand is a heavy weight against his shoulder and Peter has to resist shaking it off. He needs to keep to the act, to keep things simple for now. 

He steps out from under Beck’s hand as a nurse comes in, she directs him to get on the table. It is a bit of a struggle to actually get on the table, but he manages it. He reclines back on the table, grimacing a little as he tries to get comfortable. 

The nurse notices his discomfort fairly immediately. “Feel free to sit more on your side, Mr. Beck.” 

“Thank you.” He murmurs, letting his gaze drop to the smooth clean tiled floors. He doesn’t bother to move. No position is particularly comfortable at the moment. 

“Your doctor will be with you a moment.” The nurse offers with an encouraging smile. Peter just rubs at his belly absently. The baby isn’t awake yet, but Peter can guess it won’t take long to rouse them from the strange activity. He has a set schedule at this point, he can guess from what he read the baby knows it well enough. 

Beck moves to sit down in one of the chairs nearby the table. He clasps his hands together in his lap, his gaze drifting across the room. He’s hyper aware they’re in public and won’t outright break persona. He’s charming Mysterio, not the rotten man he actually is. “Feeling sore, doll?” 

Peter frowns back at him, half tempted to brush the man off but resists. If he plays along, Quentin won’t lash out at him later. If he wants to keep things easy, he’ll let this be. “A little.” 

“I’ll dig up the heating pad for you when we get home, might help.” He states easily enough, lacing his fingers together. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt.” 

“Okay.” Peter offers back, biting back a sharp comment at Beck’s words. Now he cares about if Peter hurts? Only now? He could pick apart that sentence forever, but he knows it's pointless. “That would be nice…” His whole back hurts from carrying around another person. Peter doesn’t know how people choose to be pregnant when it feels like this. All he wants to do is sleep. Quentin generally doesn’t give him the option. 

An uncomfortable kind of silence falls over them. It is only broken by the door opening. The doctor enters, smiling at the pair of them. Doctor Suman if anything is nice, Peter probably would like her if he met her any other time. Sanja Suman if anything is easy relaxed smiles every time Peter has seen her. Now isn’t any different, even with Quentin present. 

“Peter! It’s great to see you again.” She greets brightly, tucking her dark hair out of her face as she steps forward into the room. “Are you ready to see your baby?” 

“Yeah. It’s- good to see you too.” He offers quietly back. He can’t even really say much at this point. 

It is not remotely a surprise when Quentin cuts in, “What, no greeting for the other dad?” He jokes casually, his tone overly light. The doctor just laughs in turn. 

Peter tunes out their small talk just crossing his arms over his chest listlessly. He comes back to the present as Doctor Suman walks over to him. She smiles, quirking a brow at the teenager. 

“Peter, can you pull your sweater up for me?” 

Peter nods a little numbly, uncrossing his arms to pull up the fabric of his sweater over the swell of his stomach. He just barely manages to avoid outright flinching as Quentin reaches out to help with the fabric. He moves Peter’s hands aside, folding the bottom edge of the sweater up to tuck it out of the way. 

Doctor Suman eyes the two for a moment, but doesn’t say anything as she sits down on a stool in front of a computer. Peter isn’t sure whether to be thankful or frustrated. “Is this good?” He asks instead.

“Perfect, thank you, Peter.” She’s working on something given the occasional sound the computer makes. Peter doesn’t pay it too much mind, just focused on Quentin’s lingering hand. His attention shifts back to the doctor as she speaks once again. 

“I’m going to be applying gel to the wand here, and we’ll be using it to check on your baby.” She holds up the wand to show him the device before it disappears from view to be coated in gel. Peter gives an affirmative noise, just staring at the ceiling a little listlessly. Beck’s fingers drift across his cheek, and Peter somehow doesn’t jump out of his skin at the contact. 

He forces his gaze in the direction of the doctor. She smiles at him encouragingly, raising the wand once again. 

“The gel is going to be a little warm.” That is her brief warning before she applies the wand to his lower belly. Peter does his best not to shift under the strange wet slimy feeling. 

There is some shifting as Doctor Suman turns the screen in the direction of Peter and Quentin. Peter tries to lay still as he can as the probing wand moves across his belly. The feeling of the gel does little to help make him any more comfortable. 

It takes a moment for the image to really come together. At first everything is decidedly grainy black and white. “Here we go.” Doctor Suman murmurs before brightening a little, “Well, look here.” She shifts the wand, and Peter feels his heart sink as the image becomes clearer.

“Twins?” Beck questions, sounding startled and awed all at once. Peter just wants to cry. 

“Congratulations!”

Peter just lets his head lean back against the exam table, staring at the ceiling again. “Twins.” He repeats blankly. He sucks in a slow breath, trying to steady himself. It isn’t just _one_ baby he has to worry about, it's two. 

Two more people woven into Quentin’s web of lies. Two more people the man will hurt in the long run. 

Two people Peter needs to protect. 

“I’m sure this is more than a little overwhelming.” The doctor’s voice is comforting, clearly attempting to ease Peter. He’s not surprised she’s picked up on how discombobulated the news has made him. 

“Two boys are going to be a handful.” Beck snickers quietly back, “We need to expand on the nursery.” 

“Well, lets see just what you two have…” The doctor attempts to rile the twins within to get a better look, but neither infant seems particularly interested in moving. They just curl against each other more tightly. Peter can feel it as he sees it happen. 

_They’re real, they’re real, they’re his-_

“Stubborn little things.” She chuckles softly. Quentin all but laughs, the sound easy and relaxed. He leans an elbow against the exam bed, invading Peter’s space further. “Just as stubborn as their parents.” 

“You two are going to have your hands full if they’re stubborn _already_.” She winks playfully back at them. Quentin laughs again, leaning more into Peter’s space. 

Peter’s fingernails dig into the palms of his hand as he tries to force himself to relax. His gaze lands on the remote control tucked into the inner pocket of Quentin’s jacket. An idea settles over him. Something uncertain, but, it's there. Peter sucks in a breath, holding onto it for the moment. 

The doctor tries to prod the twins into moving again, but nothing really seems to do the trick. Sanja Suman shakes her head, joking around with Beck. 

Peter just stays quiet, adding one comment here or there, but letting the rest of the exam flow over him. He falls into autopilot, merely going through the motions of pleasantries, promising to see the doctor the next appointment. His mind is picking over possibilities, over anything and everything that could go wrong.

He doesn’t even realize he’s with Beck in the parking lot outside of the doctor’s office until he feels the sun warming the back of his neck. His mind jolts back into the present as he looks around. The parking lot isn’t very full. It is a quiet Tuesday afternoon, not many people took appointments this early. 

Beck’s arm is heavy over his shoulders. Peter turns under his grip, smiling at him. 

“Are you excited?” He questions quietly, slowing their pace with his words. 

Quentin eyes him, but seems game to play Happy Couple. His smile could be read as genuine if not for the false cracks at the edges. Peter wonders if only he ever sees the edge of mania there? “Of course. Who wouldn’t be, doll face?”

“It’s a little nerve wracking. We only planned for one baby you know.” Peter shifts more fully in the grip, looping his arms around Beck under his jacket. He leans into the older man, weighing him down just slightly. It is enough Quentin Beck has to adjust his footing somewhat. He’s on his back foot to some extent, supporting more of Peter’s weight in a loose hold. Peter contemplates bowling him over completely. 

He needs to do something. 

He needs to do something _now_. 

“Nerve wracking is one way of putting it.” He leans in, brushing his lips against Peter’s ear. “Don’t knock me over.” 

“I wouldn’t.” Peter promises softly back, pressing his face against Beck’s neck. His fingers feel the hard plastic edge of the remote. He nuzzles against Beck’s neck, just trying to keep him distracted. 

“How about we celebrate?” Peter questions, trying to make his question sound innocent. He’s been agreeable, obedient, quiet, he’s hoping he’s given himself some leeway. “You know, for twins. We should celebrate.” 

Beck pauses at that, shifting his hand to card a hand through Peter’s curls. “Celebrating wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He should be suspicious, but he can’t outright question Peter this publicly. They have to be Happy, the happiest couple. Even more so since they’re within sight of their doctor’s office. 

A few other expectant couples pass by, amused by the open affectionate display. There are a few fond or amused comments. 

Only one person seems mildly annoyed at what they’re doing. An old man stomps towards a car parked nearby. A pregnant young woman follows him, shushing him as he starts to complain about ‘Those fucking queers’. 

His glare alone was the start of an idea, but his words just solidify things for Peter. He keeps his gaze focused on Beck, but he can hear the car door slam closed as the old man gets in. A woman sighs behind him, getting in as well. For once Beck isn’t paying enough attention. His attention is focused on Peter, purely on how the teenager is leaning into him like this. 

“Now you can use both names you like, that’s worth celebrating.” Peter presses on, shifting to look up at the man with a soft smile. He digs his nails into the remote, pulling it free of the pocket as he presses a kiss against the underside of Beck’s chin. “You picked so many good names, Quen.” 

“You’re really selling it, today, huh?” The older man huffs quietly to Peter, but he seems far too pleased with himself. “Maybe one of them can be a Ben.” 

Peter hates how some small part of him is so _happy_ at Beck relenting. He can’t believe his standards are so low he’s happy about that. He’s so desperate for anything he would take that. 

His heart jumps in his chest at the sound of a car starting up. He has to stay focused, he has to make this work. 

Peter knows it's all up to chance, but, he can maybe make this work. 

“Really?” He still pitches his voice to something excited. He tries to school his expression into something happy. It apparently is convincing enough Beck is looking genuinely smug. 

“Mhmm.” He reaches out to draw Peter into a kiss. The teenager shifts his grip to let one arm wrap around Beck more securely. The arm holding the remote drops down to his side, and the remote ends up in Peter’s pocket. 

He deepens the kiss, just pulling Beck more into him. He ensures they’re staying here just a little longer. Beck hums into the kiss, just squeezing Peter close to him. His pregnant belly bumps heavily into Quentin, which keeps Beck from really moving away very easily. Peter weighs him down into place, not that the older man seems to notice. 

Peter is almost hyper aware of that specific car pulling up behind them. 

The two only break apart when a car horn honks. Peter stumbles a little unsteadily, resting a hand against his belly as he tries to keep from falling over. Beck just grunts in irritation, turning to glare at the car. 

“C’mon, you never had a moment with your spouse?” Beck calls out, jeering at the man in the car. The man, an old dark grey haired man leans out from the driver side window, glowering at Beck. Disgust is written cleanly across his features. The pregnant woman in the back of the car looks ready to die of embarrassment. 

“Some of us would rather much not see any of _that_!” He barks out, which is almost perfect in a way. It angers Quentin immediately as he takes a few steps forward to smack the hood of the car. “You’re fucking mutant freaks!” 

“Dad!” She scolds him sharply, sounding mortified. Peter shuffles back further out of the way. None of them are paying him any attention. 

“What the _fuck_ did you say to me?” The heat in Beck’s voice is all Peter needs to hear to know he’s done this. He’s pushed things into place all by chance. 

Peter watches just for a second before he turns, and he takes off. He isn’t as fast as he used to be, but he can still _run_. He can hear shouting behind him, but he doesn’t pay any attention. He can’t slow down. 

He runs, runs, and _runs_ , cutting through someone’s yard. He has to get off of the sidewalk as soon as possible. He staggers through someone’s untrimmed grass, breathing heavily as he tries to figure out where to go. He can feel the babies kicking aggressively, but that only spurns him onwards. 

He pushes into the next yard, then the next, keeping his head down as he moves. He needs to keep moving. 

He needs to just keep moving, no matter what. 

His heart is hammering in his chest and a hysterical kind of laugh ripples out of him.


	11. This is for the ones who hurt us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next update! I hope it was worth the wait :)

“Brian.” Her fingers catch at his wrist, giving it a gentle tug to pull the man’s attention back to her. “Would you relax, _please_?” Brian’s fussing over the pitcher in his grasp eases as he exhales. 

The blonde man’s expression pinched with worry as he glanced back at his spouse where she’s curled up under the covers. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable!” 

“I’d be more comfortable if you sat down and stopped hovering.” Meggan huffed back, tugging at his wrist again. The second tug was enough to make Brian turn around completely to face Meggan. “I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezed his wrist gently in further encouragement. "I promise." 

The man sighs again, setting the water pitcher back down as he smiles a little back at his wife. “Alright, alright.” Brian Braddock doesn’t hesitate to move to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to be sure everything is okay.” 

Meggan snorts quietly at that, rolling her eyes with some amusement. “Adjusting the water pitcher on the side table for the fourth time isn’t that important.” She reaches out to take his hands back into her own. 

Ever since her return from the hospital, Brian had been hovering and anxious. Meggan couldn’t blame him, but all she wanted was him to relax. She was awake now, she was back. She wasn't planning on going anywhere in the near future. “You don’t need to be in control right now. Just, stay with me in the moment.” She runs her fingers along the back of his hand. 

Tension starts to ease in Brian’s shoulders as he shifts to sit a little closer. “You always know what you say.” He reaches out to brush some blonde hair out of her face. He brushes his fingers against her cheek, smiling back at her. 

Meggan’s lips quirk upwards in a faint playful smirk. “I know you. So, I know what works.” 

The blonde man chuckles at that, leaning in to brush a kiss against the tip of her nose. “I see you’re feeling better.” A pleased hum escapes Meggan as she carefully wraps an arm around Brian’s shoulder, trying to draw him a little closer. Brian was still careful with every touch, wary of making her injuries any worse. 

The bang of the door being thrown open startles the married couple apart. 

“I hate to break up you lovebirds, but- we have some serious shit going on.” Scott Wright, Micromax, cuts in quickly. The man was on the team as much as he was off of it, but Meggan was glad he was here. “Beck called us-” 

Meggan sits up as much as she can, wincing as her ribs protest. “Did something happen?” 

“More Elementals, doppelgangers?” Brian questions with a sharp scowl as he moves to stand up from the bed. All the tension that had drained was back and it made Meggan’s heart twist. 

Scott Wright blows out a short choppy breath, “If you let me finish, I’d be able to tell you, his husband disappeared.” 

Meggan’s eyes widen. “Peter-!?” She sits up quickly before clutching at her chest with a shaky pained sound. The sound is enough for Brian to whip around, worry sharp on his features as he reaches out to try and help her lay back more carefully in the bed. 

“Meggan, _please_ \- take it easy.” He makes sure to ease her back before looking back to Micromax. “What’s going on?” 

“I’ll tell you as much as I got. Beck was out of his mind with worry.” 

“Wait, wait-” Meggan cuts in sharply. Her expression is all serious and sharp. That is enough to make both men still as she presses on with her words. “I need to tell you something, something I was going to tell everyone before the attack.” 

“Should I get the whole team in here?” Brian questions quietly back. He always believes in her, even when no one else does. 

Meggan nods, lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes. Everyone _but_ Beck.” 

\---

A strained kind of laugh escapes through his teeth as Quentin Beck balances his palms flat against the table. The strain written across his face makes the rest of his team gathered shift uncomfortably. 

“What do you mean the drones _can’t_ find him?” 

“That means the drones can’t find him.” Victoria repeats, less disquieted than the rest of the group, narrowing her eyes back at Quentin. She leans forward slightly across the kitchen table and the group are loosely seated around. “We’ve sent our smallest and fastest drone around town _multiple_ times.” 

The dark haired man clicks his teeth together in open displeasure, his hands curling into fists against the table. “What about that damn chip!? Didn’t it have tracking capabilities, or was someone just talking out their ass about that?” 

“It did, but it stopped functioning a few hours ago.” William offers very hesitantly in turn, briefly sharing a look with Victoria. The balding man’s grasp tightens on the edges of the tablet in his grasp as Beck’s expression shifts between enraged and baffled. 

“Stopped functioning?” The way the man repeats the words back, grinding his teeth. 

William drops his gaze to the tablet in hand, his tone is immediately placating. “Yes. Nothing serious. I can locate the last place it was. But, it isn’t sending a signal anymore, which complicates things. If it was still sending a solid signal I’d have a better idea.” 

Beck slams his hands on the table hard enough he sends some loose cups, pencils and equipment skittering across its surface onto the floor with a crash. A few people wince or grimace, sharing looks as Quentin shouts. “How in the fuck do you lose a pregnant man!?” 

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” Victoria cuts in sharply back, rising from her seat to push away from the table. “You were supposed to hold onto him!” 

An offended noise escapes Beck, he slams his hand against the table again as he starts speaking hurriedly. “I was arguing with this old fuck, next time I’ll put a fucking leash on him-” 

Victoria shakes her head, quick to cut him off. “You told us this story! We _know_!” She slams her hands against the table as she scowls sharply back at Beck. “You were the one who lost him, Quentin! You brought him on and you couldn’t even keep it in control!” 

Quentin shakes his head, bellowing. “I’m _**completely**_ in control!” He pushes back from his seat to stalk away from the group. He starts to walk in a circle, running his hands through his hair. “We’re all supposed to be on the same fucking page here!” 

“We were until you decided you wanted to fuck a teenager!” 

The silence that follows Victoria’s words is tense as Quentin stares at her. He grinds his teeth together before he blows out a slow breath. He runs his hand through his hair. He smooths it back into place as he stares at Victoria, then lets his gaze sweep across the room. 

“I see your point.” His voice is smooth, suddenly calm. “I complicated things, but you have to understand my reasons.” 

Victoria flicks a gaze back at Willam before she speaks, her tone wary. “No matter what Stark left him, he wasn’t worth this much trouble. We have EDITH.” No one is particularly comforted when Quentin Beck is calm after being so enraged. 

“He’s a perfect little asset. We’ve gotten rid of Spider-Man, but, an alternate dimension Spider-Man isn’t out of the question.” Beck pressed firmly back, “The good will Spider-Man carries is enough to make people believe. We just have to make sure Peter will comply completely. That takes time.” 

“A permanent hostage is still risky.” William murmurs uncertainly. He avoids Quentin’s eyes as the man looks directly at him. 

Janice speaks up hesitantly. “We can’t just let him go now. He knows the inner workings of our plans, even with EDITH, he could turn everyone on us.” 

Quentin smiles back at Janice, his tone vindicated. “ _Thank you_. At this point, he’s a long term investment.” 

Victoria crosses her arms over her chest. “If he’s a long term investment, act like it.” She wasn’t happy. “No more playing around like this. Not until you actually can control him.” 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart. First, we got to find him.” Beck claps his hands together, he flicks his attention back to William, making the man sit up a little more in his seat as he’s addressed. “William, bring up the last location. We need to get moving.” 

“Did you get your superhero team on this?” Victoria presses with a frown as she shares a brief glance with William. 

“I have them looking for him. So, it’ll help things along. Make sure to keep the drones out of their sight, alright?” 

\--- 

Peter can’t restrain a tired groan as he stumbles to a complete stop. He places a hand firmly against a tree trunk as he leans his weight against it. He takes the moment to catch his breath, his heart beating so loudly he can’t really focus. 

All he can hear for the moment is the sound of his own heart beat. The rush of his blood pumping and the crunch of his shoes against the grass underfoot. 

He shifts so he can lean more directly into the tree. Peter closes his eyes, just taking slow deep breaths as he settles a shoulder against the tree trunk, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Okay, this… is safe-ish.” He murmurs quietly to himself, just listening to the quiet sounds of nature around him. Peter hesitates before slowly moving to sit down in the grass. The relief at sitting down knocks a loud exhale out of the teenager. Being this pregnant means his body can’t do what it normally should. 

He had cut through the town and suburbia, powered purely by panic. He’s at least safer here. He can’t completely relax. His body is exhausted, but he can’t really let go. The threat of Beck somehow finding him leaves Peter more anxious than anything else. 

A small break is fine, but he’ll need to get up and keep moving. He spent almost all of the morning just running. Now the afternoon was warm and passing him by. 

He lets his eyes close again for a moment, slowly counting down to twenty as he tries to just take as much of a rest as he can. He shifts, brows furrowing together as he feels something jab at his hip from within his pocket. 

The remote. 

He still has the remote. 

He fumbles to pull it out of his pocket, staring at the slim hard plastic remote clutched between his fingers. Peter frowns as he turns it over, popping open the back panel. He digs out the batteries, just throwing them as hard as he can into the woods. 

“Sorry, for littering, I just can’t keep this on me.” He murmurs apologetically to the woods as he looks up at the trees around him. The silence that follows isn’t a surprise, but Peter is glad for no more real surprises. If he developed the mutant ability to communicate with nature right now, he wouldn’t know how to cope. It would just be too much on top of everything else. 

The seventeen year old cracks the remote in half in his hands, the hard plastic gives with enough strength. 

Peter struggles to break it down further, but manages it with some difficulty. Once the plastic and its inner components are broken, he throws it aside. The inclination to bury it is there, but he doesn’t have the energy for it. 

He tries to rise, but finds his legs giving out from under him. Peter grunts as he lands on his backside, grimacing as he presses a hand gingerly against his pregnant belly. He jostled the babies awake given the sudden movement from them. He grunts again as the two start kicking him hard enough to make him want to curl into a ball. He wonders if this is how his mother felt with him, on a lesser baby scale. 

“Ugh, okay, this is… not great.” Peter is realizing sitting on the ground hadn’t been his best idea. If he was still able to stick to things he’d have an easier time moving around. If he had any of his powers he’d be in a much better position. 

He pauses for a moment as a thought hits him. 

“ _Oh_.” He breathes out. He sinks further back down, just staring at the array of trees around him before his fingers inch upwards to trace the strange spot on the back of his neck. He presses his thumb against the chip, rocking the pad of his finger against the hard plastic of the chip inside. It feels looser in places under his skin. 

“Fuck, fuck-” He breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut. He hesitates just for a moment. 

He brings the bottom of his sweater up to his mouth, biting down on it as he digs his fingernail into his skin. The pain is immediate and he flinches against it. He bites down harder on the fabric as he wiggles his nail further into the skin, pulling and pulling. The task is made harder by the blood that springs to the surface. He’s tried this before, but never gotten this far. Beck had always caught him before, stopped him in some capacity.

Now, now it was just Peter. 

His fingers become slippery and stained with blood as he peels his own skin back. Peter blinks back tears, just wishing he had a better idea if he’s making progress or just hurting himself. He can’t really just directly ask anyone for help. Telling people he has a chip under his skin would only strengthen Beck’s point while making Peter look crazy. The teenager isn’t unaware of just how the man will try to spin this. If anyone finds him now, they’ll lock him up on Beck’s word alone. 

He tries not to think about Beck finally living up to his promise of attacking his friends and family, if he falls into that thought, he’ll lose focus on this. 

His nail clicks against something hard, and Peter grabs it, yanking as hard as he can even with how strange his position is. His arms are getting tired, but he can’t stop until he’s sure it’s gone. It rips up more of his skin on the way out given how much it _hurts_ , but Peter can feel it between his fingers as it comes loose. 

The piece of metal is slippery and has loose bits of skin on it when he stares at it. It looks deceptively normal. Any other time, he’d wonder how power inhibitors were broken down from collars and cuffs to just _this_. Right now he just feels his stomach twist uncomfortably as he looks at it. 

He breaks the chip the best he can given his fingers are wet with his own blood. He throws the pieces of metal aside, not caring where they land as he takes the sweater out of his mouth. The distant taste of what he guesses is the gel from earlier in the day lingers on his teeth. It must have gotten on his sweater at some point from the ultrasound. 

The whole ultrasound feels like it's from a completely different day at this point. Peter releases a weak pained kind of laugh as he tries to understand what his life even _is_. He’s pregnant, sitting in the middle of the woods and bleeding out of a wound he clawed into his own neck.  
He presses the collar of the sweater against the open wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Peter wishes he had planned this more thoroughly. Maybe if he had planned this earlier in the day he could have taken something from the bathroom cabinets. Even slipping a few loose bandaids in his pocket would’ve been helpful. 

His healing factor had been working even with the chip, but without it, he knew the wound would seal itself up in a half an hour at the slowest. 

He just had to wait a little bit. He could do that. 

Peter closes his eyes, just focusing on his breathing, keeping the cream colored fabric pressed against the wound. He lets his mind wander, wondering how everyone back home is doing. Has Aunt May been getting enough sleep? Was she taking more shifts because he wasn’t at home? Was she eating just take out all the time now…? 

Did Ned get that lego set he wanted? Did MJ finally get that first edition of her favorite book? Did Harley ever figure out how to play guitar? 

Were Ned, Harley and MJ enjoying being seniors? 

He flinches as his mind flicks to Midtown. Peter can’t stop himself from thinking of the footage of the building on fire. 

Was Midtown actually gone? Was it a lie? He centers himself with that line of thought. Why would Beck attack a school? Wouldn’t that be too dangerous? 

How much was Quentin Beck lying to him? Just as much as he was lying to the world? How much of a threat was he actually to May, MJ, Harley and Ned? 

How much of it was bullshit? 

He clicks his teeth together, just trying to pull apart anything else Beck had shown him. Peter just tries to pick apart what he’s heard Beck talk about. He lets his mind wander where he can, even if it hurts sometimes. 

He ends up dozing just slightly where he’s seated, fingertips stick to the sweater keeping it in place as his eyes droop shut. He exhales slowly, head leaning back against the tree trunk behind him. Peter doesn’t completely realize he’s drifting asleep until he’s already halfway there, dozing off completely. For once he doesn’t dream of anything in particular. It's all blank. 

The rustling of leaves overhead snaps Peter out of his doze, making the pregnant teenager jolt back into full awareness. A brief flash of panic rolls over him as he looks around. 

The forest is still quiet. A few birds flutter down from the tree overhead, hopping around nearby and chirping. It is idyllically peaceful. Peter releases a weak shaky breath of a laugh at the strangeness of it all.

He lets the sweater drop back, reaching up to touch the wound. The skin has healed over already. The blood has mostly dried on his skin. 

Peter sticks to the tree trunk, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet with some difficulty. He rebalances himself carefully as he looks around the woods. He’s lost some time during his accidental nap, but not enough anything has really changed. 

He looks down at his palms, grimacing at the dried blood on his skin. “Ugh.” He hesitates before spitting on his hands, awkwardly wiping the blood off on some leaves nearby. 

If his pants weren’t also obnoxiously light colored, he would’ve just wiped it on them. Uncle Ben’s advice of always buying dark denim to hide stains easier comes to mind briefly and makes Peter weakly laugh to himself.

He’d give anything to ask Mr. Stark for advice. He would give anything to ask Ben for advice. 

“Even… even if I don’t- raise you, I won’t die on you.” He promises aloud, pressing a tentative hand against his belly. “I’ll at least be alive if you need me.”


	12. Keep you in the dark. What had you expected?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, more different POV's! I've been planning diff POV's for a bit, so hopefully they're enjoyable.

He slows to a stop, just pulling the helmet up and off of his head to rub at his face. The fabric of the gloves are rough on his skin, but it’s keeping him grounded in the moment. He tucks the dome under his arm, just taking a few moments to force himself to relax. 

Pacing only did so much, but it didn’t help ease the anger boiling in his chest. All Quentin wanted to do was kick a few things over and scream until his voice was hoarse. He had to restrain himself, keep control of the situation. He had to keep the team together. 

He was losing time like this, but he couldn’t exactly file a police report. He didn’t want the police involved in any of this. Even if the local idiots seemed fond of his presence, it was too much of a risk. What monitoring the team did on his status showed Mysterio was still popular. He was routinely talked about and rated highly. The rest of the Excalibur team came a close enough second. 

Mysterio was a _hero_ after all. 

He saved so many people and was a fixture of this little podunk shit hole. People believed in the truth he gave them. Just like he knew they would. He didn’t want that to be distorted by Peter acting out like this. 

He needed to fix this situation, fast. Quentin didn’t want to risk that with anyone getting _too_ nosy. The less they knew or saw of Peter the better. Not until he could be sure Peter would fall in line. 

He would have to lean on Excalibur to do the real leg work. They liked Peter well enough and wouldn’t kick up a fuss searching for him. Meggan’s affection for the kid had rubbed off on the rest of them. While it was irritating, it was also useful. 

He had a few drones with illusions poking around, but he needed to be in the damn suit with EDITH to be sure things ran smoothly. The whole team was still clustered in his damn house trying to keep everything consistent. 

He couldn’t believe Peter would do this to him. After everything he had done for the kid, Peter just ran off like that. The thought alone makes Quentin’s teeth click together as he places his helmet back into place. 

His hand drops to his side, clenching into a fist as he releases a frustrated noise. If Peter wasn’t looking ready to pop, he’d lay the damn brat out. He thought Peter knew the program. Clearly he was a little too soft on the kid. 

He would have to immobilize Peter until he gave birth, just be sure there were no more repeats of this. Maybe they would have to move to another town at this rate to keep anyone from getting suspicious. 

“EDITH, any news on Parker?” 

“Nothing new. Shall I continue searching security footage?” 

“Go through phones, see if he shows up in the background of photos. I need him back now.” 

“Adding that to my searches now.” 

Quentin nods, more for himself than EDITH as he redirects his attention elsewhere. “Any calls back from Brian and his idiots?” 

“No, your cell has been quiet. No sight of them out just yet.” William states as he types from where he’s set up nearby. 

The brunette sighs irritably, rolling his eyes. “Of course he’s too busy with his wife. Alright. _Whatever_.” He needed to send an obligatory text ‘apologizing’ for disturbing them. Just enough to needle Brian’s do-gooder guilt. 

If he was anything like Peter, he would take the bait. Hell, if Peter wasn’t as pregnant, all he’d need to do was stage something happening and the kid would come running. London had been proof enough of Peter’s dedication to helping people even at his own detriment. 

All of them were _so_ predictable. 

“Quentin.” EDITH’s voice cuts his line of thought off, “I’ve picked out what looks like Peter in a few photos.” The AI doesn’t wait to show him, bringing up a few pictures from locals with the hint of a pregnant man in the background. Peter’s back or his side in a full run. Quentin recognizes the sweater and his mop of hair immediately. 

“Cross check location data on that, doll.” 

“Doing so now.” It only takes the AI seconds to pull up the location data of the photos alongside a map. Quentin had to admit, he was impressed how far Peter had run. 

It wasn’t far enough though. He would have the teenager back soon. The clean up was going to be a pain, but Peter would make up for it. 

“The little shit went into the woods, huh?” Beck murmurs. He turns back to the rest of the team, spreading his hands wide. “Deploy some damn drones, EDITH is sending the location data now. We got a decent lead on Parker.” 

There is some shifting in the room, William’s typing picks up in speed as others move to help him man the other computers set up. It wasn’t their usual or preferred way of setting up, but it worked in a pinch. 

He can’t help but start pacing again, his mind running on everything else that needed to be done. Narrow down just where Peter was, alert the Excalibur to Peter being ‘found’. They still needed to invent a reason why Peter was gone. That was a whole other thing he needed to piece together with Guterman. 

“Guterman, do me a favor and start brainstorming reasons Peter ran off. Keep it to the ground. Nothing crazy today!” 

“Got it!” The man called from his own makeshift station on the couch. He can hear the man already tapping away at his keyboard, likely drafting up something that will keep everything contained.

“Thank you.” Quentin called back as he turns away from the group for the moment. 

“Someone start looking for places to relocate. We probably need to move out of this town after this.” He calls out casually, snapping his fingers for attention. “EDITH, be a peach and help them find some accommodations.” 

“Certainly, sir.” 

“Can we afford to move-?” Janice mumbles to another crew member nearby. She forgets her voice carries in the large room. Quentin is glad his back is to them otherwise they would’ve seen the twinge of agitation on his face. 

They’re questioning him now? After everything? Where the hell was their loyalty? He did so much for these people. They knew what they were getting into when they signed onto this project. 

“I’ll make sure it's covered, Janice. Don’t worry.” Quentin calls out breezily back, wanting to smooth over any rumpled feathers. He needs his crew to have his back. No more doubt, no more hesitation. “Once we get Peter, I’ll see what EDITH can do for us.” 

\---

A soft irritated noise escapes Kitty as she shifts around the bags hanging from her arms. At this point she’s lost track of what is in what bag. Bringing canvas bags from Excalibur base was maybe a mistake. “I swear, if Brian sends me on another goose chase, I’ll scream.” She mutters to herself. “I’ve never met a more picky man in my life, well, besides Scott I guess.” 

Kitty weaves through the other pedestrians, trying to get by without losing all her bags. The sight of an empty bench earns a relieved sigh from the brunette. She makes a beeline for the metal bench, hoping to get to it before some little old lady sniped it. 

She stumbles a little before coming to a stop at the bench. She can feel her phone buzzing against her hip, but Kitty doesn’t check it. She’ll get to it later. Kitty awkwardly starts unloading the bags from her arms. She opens up each bag, making sure everything is at least there. She doesn’t want to make any more trips today. 

“That, should be it. Least I hope so.” She muses lowly to herself, starting to close up the bags. Her phone goes off again, which earns an eye roll from the teenager. 

“I should’ve just put this thing on silent, I swear.” She fishes her cell phone out of her jean pocket, eying the lock screen. 

Kitty blinks, eyes widening as she takes in some of the messages on display. “Woah, okay- uh.” She unlocks her phone starting to scroll through the torrent of messages she apparently missed. Group chat is a complete disaster. “Dome guy has been blowing this up…” 

Kitty has to wonder why the one day she’s out taking care of shopping everything apparently has to go to hell? Kitty shakes the confusion off, jamming her phone back into her jean pocket as she moves to gather up the bags from the bench. 

She needs to get back to Excalibur base. Brian’s shopping woes can be something to worry about later. If she got the wrong snack cakes, he can deal with it. Knowing Meggan she would be excited about any snack cake after waking up from a coma. 

The brunette weaves through the crowd, muttering apologies here and there as she tries to get out of the shopping district. If she’s lucky, she can get a ride back. Even if she has to fumble with her phone on a sidewalk somewhere. Ride sharing apps were a gift, even in small towns like this. 

“Kitty!” Kurt all but teleporting into existence a foot or so away from her startled a shriek from the brunette. If her bags weren’t looped all over her arms, she probably would’ve dropped them. Kitty presses a hand against her heart as she whips around to look at the blue furred teenager. He’s getting more than his fair share of stares given his entrance alongside his looks. Kitty is distantly happy no one is running off screaming at the sight of Kurt. She doesn’t want to have to get into a fist fight just yet. 

“Oh- god! Kurt!” She blows out a breath, a brief smile flashing to the surface at the sight of her friend. He solves her biggest dilemma at the moment. “You’re exactly the guy I’m looking for.” 

“I don’t hear that often enough.” Kurt jokes easily with a quirk of his brow, reaching out to loop his arms around Kitty as his expression shifts to something serious. “Jokes aside, we need to go!” 

Kitty doesn’t hesitate to get a good grip on Kurt, her expression souring as she thinks back to half of what she read. “You got those texts?” 

“Ja, none of them are good.” He offers before they _poof_. Kitty clings to Kurt, fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as they hurtle through space. 

Just as quickly they’re back on their feet in front of the base. 

“Still no poofing inside, huh?” Kitty manages a thin flash of a smile as she lets go of Kurt. The other mutant snorts quietly as he shrugs. 

“Some people just don’t get used to the smell.” Kurt jokes thinly back as he takes off towards the base. Kitty isn’t far behind him, she is about ready to dump all the dumb bags from how much they’re bumping and jostling her at the moment. Kurt throws the door open for her, helping her peel off some of the bags as they hurriedly push past the entryway. Kitty can hear all the voices from here and it’s just making the emergency seem even bigger. 

The usual faces on the team are there, gathered in the main living room. Kitty can barely make out the tacky couch Brian insisted on getting amongst all the bodies. With the usual faces are newcomers that make Kitty sputter in surprise. 

“Is that… War Machine and Pepper Potts in our base!?” She hisses back at Kurt. Apparently she isn’t as quiet as she hoped she was given the way the redheaded woman flicks a look at them. Rhodey huffs quietly, some amusement briefly on his features. 

“And you must be, Ms. Pryde.” Pepper Potts says with relative ease, even with the pinched edge to her expression. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“I- uh-” Kitty extends a hand for a handshake out of muscle memory more than thought. Pepper chuckles, shaking it before releasing her hand. “T-Thank you, I heard a lot about you too.” She says awkwardly. Kurt doesn’t stifle his laugh at her response, smirking at her. Kitty shoots him a look, elbowing him in the side. Other conversations are carrying on around them, information and worry passing through the crowd. 

Brian claps his hands at the front of the room, striding forward in his full uniform. Kitty hasn’t seen him in that thing in ages at this point. Not since Meggan got hurt. “Are we all on the same page so far? Did everyone read the texts?” 

“I only read some of them.” Kitty admits, giving an embarrassed kind of wince. “It was kind of a lot all at once.” A few other heroes, Longshot in particular, raises his hand to admit about the same to the group. Kitty feels a little less embarrassed about feeling overwhelmed about all of this. 

The newcomers amongst the group all share looks or grow more serious. A green skinned woman presses a hand against a green skinned man’s shoulder. Kitty doesn’t recognize everyone who isn’t _Pepper Fucking Potts_ or an Avenger present. 

“Let me make it easy then.” Pepper says as she looks around the room. Her voice alone makes the group settle as much as Brian’s. Rhodey steps forward, speaking just as confidently. 

“We’re here about Spider-Man.” 

\----

The only positive of rain starting to fall is the fact it makes the blood on his sweater become less obvious. He checks the stain by running his fingers along the fabric. When he draws his hand back, fingers come back mostly clean. 

Peter holds his hands up to get some of the droplets onto his fingers, rubbing them together to lessen the stain of his own blood as he moves through the woods. He had spent most of the afternoon, now slowly closing into the evening walking and running through the woods. His powers were definitely back, but his body was exhausted. He shouldn’t be running at full speed when he’s carrying around two extra people inside of him, but he doesn’t have much of a choice right now. 

The crunch of leaves under his shoes is steadying alongside the rustle of wildlife nearby. He should be wary given he very likely reeks of blood, but it's more life than he’s seen the past few months. 

Eventually he finds himself at the edges, able to pick up the sound of cars passing by. As he pushes past the threshold of the treeline, he finds himself looking over a distant village. All of it is quaint and very European.

Nothing looks familiar, then again, nothing had been familiar since he was kidnapped. It just makes Peter miss New York even more. When he gets home, not if, when, he’s never leaving New York again. 

Peter steadies a hand against his belly, debating with himself on what to do. He doesn’t want to be that easy to pick out for Beck. Nor does he want to validate the man’s story. 

He hesitates before shrugging off his sweater, exhaling a little at the feeling of rain hitting him more directly. The t-shirt he wore under the sweater isn’t exactly thick enough to keep him warm, but it's better than the granny sweater he’s been shoved into. 

He folds the neck down, tying it around his waist a little awkwardly. The feeling is a little snug just under his belly, but he isn’t sure what else to do with the sweater. 

Peter sucks in a slow breath, tipping his head back. The feeling of raindrops against his skin gives him some sense of hope. 

“I’m Spider-Man, I can do this, I can do this.” He promises himself, his hand presses against his belly again as he drops his gaze. “We’re going home.” 

He steps out of the woods, quick to head towards the town. He tries to keep his jogging speed reasonable looking for someone his size and level of pregnancy. He doesn’t want to outright make it easy for Beck to find him. 

He has a rough plan in mind, but he'll make it work. 

He has to. 

It’s his only option now. 

\---

The lack of response from Excalibur is grating. Grating enough Quentin half wonders if he’s been booted from their little group chat. It would just be his luck, the one time he needs them and they aren’t actually _useful_. He won’t miss the idiotic little emoji laden conversations with Meggan or Wagner. 

He leans heavily against the countertop in his kitchen, wondering if he needed to start drinking to ease his nerves. He’s lost almost the entire day to this shit. He switched out of his greenscreen suit to something comfortable given the lack of response from Excalibur. 

By now, nearly all of team Mysterio are loaded up in the vans they have. Some on Spider Duty, others moving equipment out of the way given the inevitable move planned. They were always meant to be a mobile effort, now they were back on the road. 

“Quentin, we found him!” William calls out triumphantly, running in from the other room. “EDITH located him with our drones!” 

“Thank, fuck.” Quentin breathed out, “Let's get this done. Get everyone here in a van and we’re moving!” 

_Finally_ , things were falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, kitty is a bisexual disaster


	13. Can't Believe In What We See

“That's him.” William confirms without looking up, “The drones have a bead on him.” 

A relieved exhale escapes Quentin as he scrubs a hand across his jaw. He eyes the screen William is staring at. He shifts in the back of the van to lean a little over the balding man to stare down at the tablet himself. Peter is all but run-waddling his way across a sidewalk. “Get the drones to start corralling him where we need him.” 

“Should we put an illusion over it, or just scare him?” Victoria questions, flicking a glance back at him. The woman’s hands never leave the steering wheel as she drives the van down the emptying roads. 

“Just give him a scare, I don’t want to have to figure out another damn excuse for Elementals. Guterman isn’t here, and I don’t want to do any improv.” He calls out, looking between the others crowded into the van with them. “Do we still have the footage we cooked up of his little girlfriend being shot?” 

“We still have it on file, should we have it happen at their school or her home?” Another drone tech questions, clacking away at her keyboard diligently. Their on the move set up is a disaster, but it is at least functional. 

“Home. We don’t have any footage of the school being damaged still. We burnt it down, remember?” Quentin is quick to throw out as he blows out a short breath. He should have ridden the team about getting extra footage done of that. “Have it cued up so I can show him once he’s restrained in here.” 

“I’ll run through it to make sure it meets our standards.” The drone tech confirms as she begins to type more quickly now.

Quentin runs a hand through his hair, “ _Thank you_. I want high standards here.” His gaze drops back to the tablet in William’s grasp. “How many drones are we sending in?” 

The balding man answers easily enough as he pushes his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. “Three feels like a safe start for now. Conserve energy, but be enough of a threat Peter will yield.” 

“Make it four, I want him to know we’re serious. _Yes_ , it's a scare, but we can make things escalate if we need to.” Quentin clicks his tongue against his teeth. A plan is coming together, and it makes him feel more settled than he has been the rest of the day. 

“Adding another drone to the situation.” Willam easily cues up another drone, adding it to the group already closing in on Peter’s location. 

“We need to make sure Peter understands he can’t just run away from his problems.” 

\---

He tips his head back, blowing out an exhausted kind of breath as he stumbles to a stop under an awning. While he has his normal stamina back without the inhibitor chip, it doesn’t mean he has enough energy to keep going continually. He hasn’t eaten since this morning, and at best he half napped in the woods after clawing at his neck. Losing blood isn’t probably the best thing he could have done for this situation. His body isn’t even remotely happy with him. 

Peter rubs at his face a little absently, leaning against the glass store window behind himself. All he wants to do is curl up somewhere to take a nap. A bowl of soup or even a packet of crackers would be perfect right now. He needs to eat something soon. 

He stands as straight as he can, his gaze drifting across the town he’s found himself in. Most of the people living here are trying to get out of the rain. 

No one outright looks familiar, which is a relief. Peter keeps expecting to just see Beck’s people in the crowd. He expects to feel the drones. 

The lack of them is a relief as much as it makes Peter’s skin crawl. He knows Beck wouldn’t give up on him. Wouldn’t let himself _lose_. The man is arrogant enough to try almost anything at this point. 

Peter knows he’s a walking target, and he needs to take advantage of it. He doesn’t want to go with his secondary plan, but if he has to, he will take that go. 

He pushes away from the window completely, back out into the rain. The weather at least is getting marginally better, even if the sidewalks are slippery with puddles. He slows around a few puddles, apologizing when he bumps into people in passing. 

He’s sure the hospital is close. He got directions from a few people earlier, but, he isn’t quite sure how much ground he’s covering thanks to the rain. 

Shelter in a hospital feels like the safest thing. He’s a minor still, pregnant or not, he’s sure the people working there wouldn’t outright tell Beck who he is. 

_‘I’m Peter Parker, I was kidnapped and brought here. I ran away from my kidnapper. Please help me.’_ Is the shortest explanation he has, it's what he mentally repeats a few times. He wants it down pat by the time he’s there. 

He’s on his maybe three hundredth repeat of the phrase along with his Aunt May’s phone number when his weird sixth sense buzzes to life. It’s almost jarring now after such a long period of silence. 

He closes his eyes as he runs, and he _knows_. 

It's a drone. It isn’t too close in his reach, but his sixth sense is screaming at him. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he pivots from his original plan. He opens his eyes as he looks around. 

He runs towards what he hopes is the center of town. If he’s lucky, there will be people still milling about in some capacity. 

Plans change, but he’ll make it work. 

Quentin wants to force his hand, and Peter has to out think him. 

\--- 

“He’s not answering at all-?” Kitty questions, trying to keep her voice from edging on something nervous. Kurt settles a fuzzy hand against her shoulder, giving it an reassuring squeeze. 

“It isn’t a surprise, but it doesn’t look good for him.” Kurt offers with a flash of a toothy smile before he shifts back to a more serious tone. “I’m sure Mrs. Potts knows what she’s doing.” He spares the meeting room a brief glance before his attention settles back on his friend. His fellow X-Man, his fellow mutant, his fellow member of Excalibur. 

The rest of the team was still scattered around the base, talking amongst themselves. The nervous energy hung in the air. Last Kitty saw, Brian had walked off with Pepper Potts and her entourage to talk about a plan. Meggan had demanded to be involved, so the group had drifted off in that direction.

“Y-yeah, of course.” Kitty breathes out, a tepid smile appearing as she fiddles with her cellphone. Her brows pinch together as she speaks. “I still feel like this is crazy, you know? All this time and that Mysterio guy just kidnapped a teenager. A guy _our_ age! None of us even- realized. God, I feel _so_ dumb.” 

“Would saying ‘same’ or ‘mood’ be inappropriate?” Kurt weakly jokes back with a grimace. Kitty can’t stop herself from laughing at his joke, leaning into her friend a little. She nudges him playfully, which is enough for the other mutant to continue

“I feel like an idiot.” Kurt continues, running a hand across Kitty’s back. “We barely saw him, so, I just, assumed like you did. It was so much easier to think things were fine...” 

“We were all tricked, Kurt. Feeling guilty about it now won’t do much good.” 

The two teenagers look up at Brian’s words, the blonde man offering them a gentle smile. He ran a hand across his face tiredly, “Meggan and I had some guesses something was off, but we kept just waiting for Peter to come to us. He couldn’t.” He spares a glance back in the direction he had come. Kitty could vaguely hear Ms. Potts talking with Meggan from here. The teenager can guess that the group are still comparing notes. If anyone knows what Peter has been thinking, it's Meggan. 

The brunette stands up a little taller, breaking away from Kurt’s loose hold. A determined expression settling over her features as he grip tightens on her cellphone. “We’re going to make this right.” 

“We are. It just means we need to find Peter and keep him away from Beck.” Brian agrees readily, he seems to want to say something else, but his line of thought is derailed as Pepper Potts emerges from the next room, her entourage a few steps behind her. The green skinned guy looks uncomfortable, but just as determined as the rest. He shifts shape into someone else entirely within seconds. 

“We need to get mobilized now.” Rhodey states quickly, his expression tight. Stark Industries security head is lagging a little behind. A cell phone is tucked between his ear and shoulder. He is arguing with someone on the phone from the sounds of it. He is trying to keep his tones quiet, but Kitty can pick out a word here or there. That isn’t really the pressing issue at the moment. 

Kitty can’t help but blink, stealing a glance back at Brian, then Kurt. “Woah, woah- _what_ -?” 

“Friday has spotted Peter. He’s in town. We need to get to him before Quentin Beck does.” Pepper explains quickly, raising a hand as nanites start to pool over her arm, taking the shape of a suit. Kitty is trying to not outright stare since she’s only heard of the nanite thing, never actually seen it in action close up before.

Rhodey’s own suit is forming around his body as he looks to Brian. “Think your people can suit up and meet us outside in ten minutes?” 

“We’ll call it five minutes and meet you there.” Brian says immediately, straightening up to his full height. That is all Rhodey needs to hear as he turns back to Pepper, the two share some kind of look before heading out of the room together towards the front of the base. Brian turns away from the two teenagers to address the rest of the room at large. The rest of the team scramble into shape, quickly rushing to get prepared. 

“Who is Friday?” Kurt murmurs lowly to his friend. There is a lot going unsaid, but now isn’t really the time to ask. 

“A fancy robot maybe?” Kitty speculates quietly back, “But, if they saw Pete, we can do something now.” She tucks her cellphone into her jeans pocket, turning back to Kurt. “Let's get moving, and fast.” 

Kurt grins a little, disappearing in a poof of smoke before returning in his suit a moment later. “You don’t need to tell me twice.” 

Kitty can’t help but snort, “Show off.” She shoves him lightly at the shoulder before heading off to get into her own suit as quickly as she can. 

\-- 

His breath shakes in his chest as he runs, now purposely bumping into people as he goes. Every apology he wants to make catches in the back of his throat as he moves through the crowd. 

He can feel the drones. Peter can’t even explain how, but when he closes his eyes, he feels them. There have to be four of them. They are all grouped up in units of two. The groups are trying to herd him away from the crowd. 

Peter stumbles to a hard stop in front of a building. It takes him a second to realize it's a local grocery packed next to a few other smaller mom and pop shops. People are staring at him for crowding the front entrance. 

“Are you alright, son?” An older man questions him uncertainly. 

“Is that- man okay?” A woman murmurs, stumbling over her words. Peter can guess he looks like a teenager, but being this pregnant has given her some pause. The blood covered preppy sweater doesn’t really help. 

He walks forward, keeping the entryway blocked as he jumps up almost effortlessly. His fingers connect with the tall door frame. Peter hauls himself up easily, sticking to the brick surface with no issue. 

People gasp behind him, voices raising in alarm and concern. Peter keeps climbing, breathing heavily through his mouth as he moves upwards over the windows at the front of the store. The building isn’t particularly tall, but people are seeing him. This building is busy enough that he won’t be missed.

He has to ignore every instinct screaming at him as he moves. After a year of being ground bound, it is almost freeing to move up along a wall. Muscle memory kicks in hard enough he can do it without really thinking. Even with the added pregnancy weight, he still can do this. He keeps one hand firmly pressed against his belly, the other sticking firmly to the surface of a wall as he scurries upwards. The terrible shoes Beck put him in aren’t great for running, but decent enough to climb in. They don’t hinder his progress as he moves. 

People are yelling at him, but Peter can’t even comprehend what they are saying. His mind is swirling with too many thoughts colliding together. He needed to do this. He never wanted to do this kind of thing, but he has to. 

He needs everyone to see. He keeps climbing, making the fact he’s sticking with his own bare hands as obvious as he can. He’s a pregnant man in a ugly sweater and sweatpants, he shouldn’t logically be able to do this. 

He pulls himself up over the edge of the building onto the rooftop. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to try and stifle a groan that wants to escape. He rubs at his belly before turning back to the people gathering below. 

Several people in the growing crowd have their phones out. Phone cameras flash and people are yelling at him. Peter closes his eyes, he can feel the drones flying up to meet him on the rooftop. He doesn't have a lot of time. He needs to make this count.

He spreads his arms wide as he can, sticking to the ledge effortlessly as he calls out as loudly as he can. 

“I’m Spider-Man!” 

Quentin Beck can’t take that away from him.


	14. I'm The Hero You Deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't always believe everything you see.

“Get him off that roof!” He slams a hand against the side of the van, glowering at the sight of the teenager standing at the ledge of the rooftop. “ _Now_!” 

“We’re trying!” 

“Try fucking harder!” Beck bellows as he whips around to glare at the drone technicians gathered together behind him in the van. A few people flinch, others duck their heads silently. William grimaces at the shouting, typing furiously as his gaze stays locked on the screen. His tablet has been handed off to another tech so he can work from a laptop and keyboard. 

“Failure is not an option, if that damn kid gets out, we’re screwed!” 

“Drones closing in.” Another tech offers, her voice clipped with tension. 

Quentin scrubs his face with his hands, a frustrated sound escaping him as he starts to pace in the small space of the van. “Fuck me, someone get Guterman on the line. We need him to work this disaster out.” 

“I already texted him.” Victoria throws out from her spot at the driver's seat. “He and the other group are piecing a story together now.” 

“It better be the most airtight story we’ve made. We have no room for error.” Quentin is trying to think of anything to explain away the Spider-Man claim, but he is drawing a blank. They might have to lean into Peter having a psychotic break to explain half his behavior. 

“Bumping target now.” William announces smoothly. Beck turns again to stare out of the front windshield. Peter stumbles back, eyes wild and wide as the cloaked drones force him back. The pregnant teenager wobbles in place, clutching at himself before turning away from the ledge to run across the rooftop and out of sight entirely. 

People are still yelling at him from below, only growing more frantic as he disappears from sight. Taking his eyes off of Peter in the first place is how they got into this mess. 

“Where is he!?” Quentin pushes past the back of the van to take up a spot in the open passenger seat. He'll only feel more secure after he's got the damn kid back under his thumb.

“We’re on his tail.” Another one of the drone technicians states quickly, staring down at the screen in her hands. Beck can see the glow of the screens behind him in the rear view mirror. “He’s leaving the rooftops now. He's scaling another building to get down.”

The technician and William both swear quietly to themselves after a moment, which makes Beck whip around to look back at them.

“What is happening-?” He spits back at them. 

“We lost sight of him.” William’s typing goes faster as his brows pinch together under his glasses. The beat of silence that follows makes Quentin want to scream. How could they lose him!? He was pregnant for god sake! Not to mention the inhibitor chip means he likely can't do much at this point. He grits his teeth on the edge of yelling when the woman exclaims, “There!” 

“We have him back in sight.” The other technician breathes out in clear relief. “Locking on now.”

Beck grip tightens on the edge of the seat he’s in. “Don’t you dare fucking lose him! Shoot a tracker on him if we have any left! We need to fix this!” 

“We heard you the first time.” Victoria breathes out in agitation as she takes the van out of park, “Following coordinates from the drone.” Her gaze briefly flicks to the GPS on the dashboard as she starts to drive them around the crowd back into normal street traffic. The traffic around the grocery store parking lot had gotten clogged from Peter's announcement. That much slows the van from leaving as quickly as Quentin would like.

“Thanks, V.” William breathes out in relief. Quentin spares both of them a dirty look, but clicks his teeth together. He can hold his tongue. He’ll deal with them after he’s sure Peter learns his lesson. The van rocks a little as Victoria speeds it up, trying to weave her way around other cars. She manages to drive her way out of the parking lot into the actual streets. People were headed towards the grocery store to try and look into the commotion.

“We’re going to crowd him in a quieter spot.” 

“Can we just knock him unconscious to pick him up?” Is questioned by another technician, a chubby woman with big glasses that are sliding down the bridge of her nose. Quentin is fairly sure her name is Bev. Quentin can’t completely disagree with her suggestion. The less of a fight Peter puts up the better at this point. 

William speaks up fairly quickly, shooting down the suggestion. “A teenager dropping onto the ground wouldn’t be the best look. He’s already gotten too much attention on himself right now.” There is some noises of agreement from the rest of the van. Quentin would love to disagree, but an actual argument isn't something any of them need right now.

“Pulling up a map to make sure we keep him out of sight.” It takes a few clicks before the GPS location shifts. He stares at the GPS, but it doesn't do anything to make the man feel any better. He _needs_ to see Peter. Beck twists in his seat to look back at the tech's again, straining against his seatbelt to try and see anything on the screens the group are working on. Beck swears under his breath, wishing he could yank a tablet out of the nearest tech’s hands so he could _see_ what is going on. He directs his gaze back towards the front, biting the inside of his cheek as Victoria cuts another car off. The honking earns some swearing from the woman as her grip tightens around the steering wheel. 

“We’re really losing _all_ subtly here.” A tech groans loudly. 

“We have no real choice here. We need to grab him and go.” Quentin says firmly, trying to soothe his nerves. “We’re going to get this done, people. You’re all handling this perfectly.” He doesn’t quite believe that, but he was going to try and bolster them into getting this done. The silence that follows his encouragement is better than any arguments at least. 

He fishes the EDITH glasses from his pocket, placing them over his face. “EDITH, be a doll and scrub any security footage of our van.” 

“Of course, Quentin.” The AI replies primly back. Quentin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Start scrubbing the internet of footage of Peter’s little announcement. If you have to, make sure it glitches out so it's hard to see his face.” Quentin continues, trying to get some semblance of control over the situation. There will be so much damage control to deal with, so the sooner they get the footage off the internet and degraded to the point of being useless, the better. He can hear the techs working from where he’s seated in the front of the van.

“I am working on both now.” 

“Good, great, thank you, EDITH.” He leaves the sunglasses on as he is jostled into the van door by Victoria’s next turn. “Damn it, Victoria!” 

“I’m trying to keep up with the drones and Peter!” She snaps defensively back, never looking away from the road as she drives. “We’re nearly on him.” She motions vaguely at the GPS for emphasis. Beck blows out a little frustrated breath through his teeth, but doesn’t argue. He would love to scream at all of them. Victoria picks up speed as they draw to what looks like a complete dead end on the GPS screen. The end of this fiasco is within sight now.

“The drones have him cornered in a back alley.” William quickly announces, relief obvious in his voice. His typing only gets faster now as he tries to input more than a few commands. 

Quentin cradles his face in his hands. “Thank fuck.” Relief pools in his gut, taking the tension out of him for just a moment. 

The van jerking to a hard stop is enough to get Quentin back into focus. Victoria had pulled the van to an angled stop to block off the alleyway from view. Quentin could fucking kiss her for that alone. The alley isn’t a deep one, which means Peter doesn’t have time to scramble up a wall with how pregnant he is. 

Quentin yanks the EDITH glasses off of his face, stuffing them into his pocket. He unbuckles himself, throwing the passenger door open to all but throwing himself out of the van onto his feet. 

Peter Parker stares at him wild eyed from the end of an alleyway, blocked from climbing by a drone. The pregnant teenager is shaking as he clutches at his belly, curling into himself. 

“Just- just leave me alone!” The teenager shrinks into himself as Quentin walks towards him quickly.

“ _Oh_ , Peter. Look what you’re making me do.” He grabs at the teenager’s wrist, hauling Peter to his feet completely and yanks him back in the direction of the van. The teenager struggles against his hold until Quentin back hands him hard enough to make the pregnant teenager stagger. 

He hauls Peter into the open van doors, shoving the teenager into the back roughly. Peter hits the floor of the van with a yelp, clutching protectively at his pregnant belly. 

“Get moving, now!” Quentin barks out as he slams the door shut.

\---

“Please, please, please tell me we didn’t miss him!” Kitty groans loudly, stumbling to a stop as she looks around a little desperately. Peter had been on the roof earlier, now he was just gone completely. 

Kitty shakes her head, pushing her way through the crowd, phasing through a few people quickly to get her way through the lingering people in some capacity. Kitty isn’t surprised people are freaking out, but it isn’t making finding Peter any easier. 

“We have eyes in the sky and we’re still looking.” Pepper answers quickly back over the comm line the team is hooked up to, “Rhodey, do you see anything? I haven’t seen him yet.” 

“I’m looking.” The man says quickly back, “Normally the kid is wearing a bright red and blue suit, so he’s hard to miss.” 

“I mean, he’s pregnant, that should be hard to miss.” Kurt answers, before the sound of his teleporting can be heard over his communicator. Kitty startles as Kurt appears behind her. He extends a hand out towards Kitty with an arch of his brow and flash of his teeth in a smile.

“Need a lift, liebling?” 

“Please.” She reaches out to take his hand and the two of them disappear from the parking lot onto a rooftop. 

“Is that?” Kurt leans forward, squinting a little down at what looks like someone running. Kitty peers down herself, before a startled sound escapes her. “It is him!”

She taps the comm line hurriedly, “We have eyes on him! We’re headed his way!” The brunette quickly grabs her friend’s gloved hand, and they start teleporting from rooftop to rooftop trying to keep up. 

“We’re following Kurt’s smoke trails.” Brian says hurriedly over the comm line, “Try to keep your eyes on him!”

“We’re working on it!” Kurt grunts as he shifts his grip on Kitty. Even with the lights from nearby buildings, the night was starting to settle completely over the town, which made visibility less than ideal. “Who knew he could run _this_ fast?” They can see the flash of Peter’s shape running through alleys and streets, but he keeps ducking just out of sight. 

Kitty winces as the next teleport skims the edge of a rooftop before they run to the next. She feels secure as her boots hit the top of the roof. She runs with Kurt to the next, jumping as he teleports to the next rooftop within seconds of their jump. “We kind of barely know him.” 

“Ja, you have a point there.” 

“After this, we can at least try to get to know him.” At least Kitty would like that. It is better than what they have now. She nearly suggests it before the comm line crackles to life in both of their ears on the earbuds the two are wearing. 

“We’re nearly on your location.” Pepper chimes in through the comm line, “Do you still see him?” 

“We’re nearly-” Kitty starts before Kurt’s next teleport goes slightly awry. His foot grases the edge of the rooftop whilst the tip of her boot catches it awkwardly, sending her tipping directly out of his grasp. The brunette can’t contain the startled yelp that escapes her as Kurt loses his grip on her. 

Kitty’s instincts snap her into phasing. Kurt’s hands go right through her as the brunette falls. The momentum sends her directly through the rooftop and out of sight of Kurt entirely. 

Kitty bites the inside of her cheek as the momentum carries her downwards, directly through the top floors, tumbling through the air. She swears under her breath, feeling stupid as the shock wears off. 

She flounders in the air, struggling to turn herself around to land on her feet. She only becomes solid once she angles herself onto her feet. She lands hard, scaring a family in the apartment she’s landed in. The man jumps up from his table, grabbing his wife and daughter to drag them away from Kitty. The brunette grimaces apologetically, stumbling away from their dinner. 

“Shit- shit-” she quickly whips around to look around the apartment before taking off towards what she hopes is their front door. “Um- sorry, sorry!” She throws open the door, relieved to see what looks like the complex hallway. She takes off, leaving the door open in her wake as she runs. Even in Europe the apartments are at least similar enough she can figure out where the main stairwell is. The brunette mentally berates herself for phasing, if she had stayed solid, Kurt could have caught her and they wouldn’t have lost any time. 

She throws the door open to the stairwell, staring at the stairs as the question hits her. “Up- or down-?” She debates before running back up, hoping she can hitch a ride with War Machine or Pepper. 

The run up feels like it takes forever, not helped by Kitty tripping over her own feet in growing anger at herself. “C’mon, c’mon!” She hisses at herself as she runs up the concrete stairs. 

She is only relieved when she throws the door leading to the rooftop open, stumbling out onto the quiet roof. She darts forward to the edge of the room, gaze sweeping across the buildings below. 

“Mein gott- Kitty!” Kurt appears behind her, quickly grabbing her around the waist. Kitty yelps, but doesn’t fight as Kurt teleports them away. 

“Did we lose him!? Oh my god, oh my god-” She squeaks out in a panic. “I am so sorry!’ 

“Nein, nein- its my fault!” His grip tightens on his friend as they appear on another rooftop. “We did lose sight of him, but the others went ahead.” 

Kitty nods jerkily, raising a hand to tap the comm line to open back up. “Eyes on Peter?” 

“He’s gone.” War Machine’s voice is clipped. 

“Meet us in front of the coffee shop Meggan likes.” Brain interjects quietly, his voice is steely, all but determined. “One of Ms. Potts associates has some information for us.” 

“We’ll be there.” Kitty confirms weakly back. 

“Off to Bean Story, then.” Kurt breathes out, trying to contain his disappointment. Even the ridiculous name of the place couldn’t make Kitty smile at the moment. 

By the time they arrived, the group had all gathered together in front of the weird fairy themed coffee shop.The windows are dark and a closed sign is up on the front door, but doesn’t do much to deter the superheroes from taking up the front sidewalk in front of the building. The street lamps are dimly lighting up the street around them. Heavy clouds obscure the moon overhead, only making the night all that much darker. 

Kitty winces a little at the guilt and anger on everyone’s faces. Guilt twists tightly in her gut as she realizes she cost them time. Kurt lets go of Kitty once they are on their feet amongst the rest of Excalibur. 

The green skinned man is talking with Brian quietly before he looks at the crowd. “Is everyone here?” 

Brian surveys the crowd himself, nodding, “It looks like.” 

“Well, let me introduce myself. I’m Talos.” He presses a hand against his chest, his appearance rippling to mimic Brian’s costumed appearance. Even his voice changes to match Brian’s perfectly. “And I am a Skrull. I have a few things we should talk about.” 

“Uh, okay, what the fuck.” Mumbled Micromax, earning some nervous laughter from the rest of the group. 

“Nick Fury asked me to come to your planet to help protect it. This in part is my fault Peter has gotten into this. I intend to fix it.” 

“So… we have a plan then?” Kitty questions loudly. 

“We have a plan.” Brian, the real Brian, at least Kitty assumes says as he steps forward. He looks at the superheroes gathered around him. He looks to Pepper, nodding a little to encourage her to step forward. The armored woman doesn't hesitate, taking her place and control of the crowd with only a glance. 

"FRIDAY is hacking EDITH now." She pauses before adding, "EDITH is a system that has been hiding Beck from us, giving him his 'magic'. His whole story has been a farce to say the very least. Thats the simplest explanation I can give you now. After she breaks through the system, we'll have a bead on him. We'll be able to end this." 

"Then I'm going to kick his shit in." Rhodey says dryly, scrubbing at his unmasked face. "Who wants to join me?" 

Kitty blinks and laughs a little as the crowd of tired suited up super heroes cheer their assent. 

They haven't lost just yet.

\---

He tucks a hand under the pregnant teenager’s armpits, hauling him up onto his feet. “C’mon, Peter.” 

The teenager grunts tiredly, but avoids making eye contact with the older man. Quentin bites back an irritated noise that wants to escape as he all but carries the teenager across the parking lot towards another waiting van. 

Even with EDITH scrubbing the footage of their van driving after Peter and any lingering footage of the teenager fleeing, Quentin felt it was necessary to get another van to cover their tracks completely. The rest of the crew had agreed. 

He didn’t get this far by _not_ being paranoid. 

EDITH funneling money from Stark certainly helped make things so much more smooth. The idiot left money to the kid. All it took was actually asking EDITH to find out there was more than just drones left to the brat. _In theory_ , Peter was using it. 

“You’ve fucked this up for the last time, you hear me?” 

Peter sniffles weakly. “I- I hear you.” He finally looks up through his messy sweat dampened curls. He finally seems to get his footing under himself, walking awkwardly. 

“ _Good_. I’m expecting better behavior from you.” He says let go of the teenager, pushing him towards the van. Peter stumbles, but corrects his footing to stay somewhat stable. Peter pulls open the door reluctantly, stepping into the back of the van. He sinks into one of the back seats, buckling himself in. 

Quentin stares at him for a moment, closing the back door before moving to the front of the van. Once he was settled in the driver's seat, he signaled for the other waiting van to take off. Victoria nods, starting up the vehicle and starting to drive out of the parking lot. 

Things were starting to look up, _finally_.


End file.
